Grateful Hero 3: The Legacy of the Goblin
by Alexia Dark
Summary: Two Goblins. Two heroes. A struggle for sanity, love, and life itself. All will pay the price of the legacy of the Goblin...
1. Chapter 1

"What do you think of that one," Peter asked, pointing to a small gold ring with a circular-cut diamond.

"It's nice, but we'll be lucky to afford a wedding in ten years if we get it," MJ said. Peter frowned, nodding. The ring was probably the cheapest one in the store, and he still couldn't afford it.

"Maybe we should just elope to las Vegas," MJ said, but she wasn't serious. She and Peter had already agreed that their wedding would be done properly, witnessed by friends and family.

"Can I help you, sir," said a salesman with a rude, sarcastic tone. He looked a bit familiar to Peter, but he couldn't quite place him. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with brown hair and an arrogant, annoyed expression. The nametag on his suit said 'Bruce.'

"No," Peter said, looking down.

"Well, are you buying a ring or not," he said as he leaned forward and said in a low, almost conspiratal tone,"You're taking up counter space."

"We're still looking," MJ interjected.

"By all means, take all the time you need. It's not like there are customers who can actually afford a ring here," Bruce said sarcastically.

MJ took Peter's hand and pulled him away from the counter.

"Come on, Peter. I'm sure we can find a pawn shop with better rings than this junk," MJ said, disgusted.

They exited the store and started to walk towards Central Park, to a pawn shop they'd seen in the paper. They stopped as MJ's cell phone rang. MJ had bought it a few weeks before the proposal, and now regretted it.

"Hello," she asked.

"I've got some exciting news, Mary Jane."

It was her father. She smiled. He sounded happy and sober, a rare combination.

"What is it," she asked.

"I got a deal on that book I wrote. The publisher said it could be a best-seller," her father said.

"That's great."

"How have you been, anyway? I haven't seen you in awhile."

MJ looked at Peter and smiled.

"I'm getting married."

"You're sure this time," her father asked, protective.

"Yes, I'm very sure, Dad."

"Who is he?"

"Dad, you remember Peter Parker, right? He used to live next door to us."

"The one your mom always bragged about with May?"

"Yep."

"He seems like a nice boy. I hope he'll make you happy. How are you paying for the wedding," he asked.

MJ froned, sitting down on a nearby bench.

"We're still working on that."

"Well, I'm getting a big advance on this book. I'll pay for it."

"You will," MJ asked, surprised.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Thak you. Wow. I... thank you."

"You're welcome. MJ, you deserve it. I was a crappy father to you. This is just part of me saying sorry."

"Apology accepted."

"It's not enough to say sorry. I don't deserve your forgiveness yet. But maybe down the road I will. I have to go, MJ. Write down a list of all the things you need, and plan with your mother," he said.

"Okay."

"Goodbye."

"'Bye."

MJ hung up and looked at Peter, smiling.

"My dad's paying for the wedding," she said.

"That's great," Peter said with a smile.

MJ hugged him, then opened her cell phone again.

"I have to call my mom."


	2. Chapter 2

"You made all this yourself, Aunt May," Peter asked. May shrugged in a dismissive gesture.

"I don't have much to occupy my time anymore. It kept me busy, at least," she said, setting down a glass dish full of mashed potatoes. On the table in front of her was a traditional Thanksgiving dinner; turkey, stuffing, cranberries, and a variety of mashed vegetables.

"I would've helped," MJ said.

"Thank you, Mary Jane, but I didn't need the help. Where is that new friend of yours, Peter," May asked.

"I'm sure she'll be here soon," Peter responded.

May was just about to put the pumkin pie in the oven to keep it warm when there was a knock on the door. May answered it.

"Sorry I'm late. There's some pretty heavy traffic out there," Alexia lied, standing in the doorway. Well, it wasn't really a lie. Traffic_ had_ slowed down quite a bit while she's been busy dragging people out of their cars after an accident.

"No problem, dear," May said, brightly, stepping back to allow Alexia in, "So you're the friend Peter's been talking about. What's your name again?"

"Alexia."

"Alexia. That's a pretty name. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm famished. Why don't we sit down and say grace so we can eat," May suggested.

They all sat down, and May led them in a little prayer. The moment passed, and they started serving themselves.

"So, Alexia, tell me about yourself. How did you and Peter meet," May asked.

Alexia glanced over at Peter and MJ, thinking. She hoped that Peter hadn't said anything that could contradict her.

"Well, we live in the same building. I saw him in the hallway the day I moved in. I thought I'd seen him before, and we talked a bit. We go to the same university, so I must have seen him there. Then our classes did a project together. After awhile, we sort of became friends," Alexia compromised.

"Alexia's going to be a bridesmaid at the wedding," MJ added.

They'd told May about the wedding a few weeks ago. She'd seemed maybe the happiest she'd been since Ben had died.

"How wonderful! Is Harry going to be the best man," May asked hopefully.

Peter almost winced at the question, looking down.

"No."

"Why?"

"We had a fight," Peter said.

"Over what," May inquired.

"Just... occupational differences," Peter said.

May nodded in understanding. Another fight over Spider-Man. She'd witnessed a few of those, though the arguments had qickly stopped once they realized that she could hear them. Everyone had gone silent, so she decided to change the subject.

"What are you taking at the university, Alexia," she asked.

"A bunch of fashion-related courses. I'm still not sure what kind of career I want," Alexia said.

It was true. There was a time when she could've settled for sitting in front of a camera for a living, but not now. She'd considered becoming a police officer, but she would be too close to other people in that job; one small mistake and her secret would be out. She was considering similar jobs, but she wasn't quite sure which one would be best.

They talked about nothing important for the rest of the meal. They all offered to help with the clean-up, but May politely refused.

Peter and MJ sat in the living room discussing the wedding, while Alexia thought about Devon. Had she dumped him too suddenly? Should she have given him a reason? But what could she have told him? 'I can't go out with you, because I'm afraid that you're going to get electricuted or thrown off a bridge if I stay with you'?

"How long are you able to stay, Alexia," May asked from the kitchen.

Just then, a stream of police cars blaring their sirens passed on the street below. Peter and Alexia exchanged a knowing look. Then both of them looked at MJ. She nodded.

"Actually, I should be going. I have a lot of homework to do," she lied.

"We should be going, too. Lots of planning to do before the wedding," Peter added.

"So quickly? Would you like to take the leftover pie home," May asked, coming out of the kitchen with the pie already wrapped in plastic.

"I'd love to, but we really have to go, " Peter said, giving May a kiss on the cheek as he opened the door.

"Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mrs. Parker," Alexia said.

They all hurried out of the apartment, leaving a confused Aunt May looking out the window with the pie and listening to the fading sirens.


	3. Chapter 3

'Wake up, Harry,' the voice whispered. Harry put his pillow over his head to block out the light filtering through the window in the door across the room.

'Wake up! It's almost time!'

Harry opened his eyes and glanced at the plexiglass window outside. It was dark.

"Time for what? It's the middle of the night," Harry muttered.

'Don't tell me you've forgotten. You can't have forgotten', it said.

"Forgot what? I'm not even awake yet. Go away."

'Don't you remember what day it is... ,' it asked.

It didn't wait fora reply, but showed him. Images flashed before Harry's eyes; his father talking to him in the car, visiting the apartment, hugging him and apologizing for not being there for him, and finally, his own point of view as he cried beside the bed where his father's body lay, lifeless. Harry remembered. It was the day after Thanksgiving. The anniversery of his father's death.

'I loved you, Harry. I didn't get the chance to tell you that, and now it's too late. You could've made me proud, son. You were on the right path. You could have made me so proud...'

"It's not fair," Harry whispered, starting to forget everything.

'Exactly. It's not fair. You deserved that chance. It shouldn't have been taken away from you. But it was. And there's nothing you can do about it,' the voice said.

"There must be something I can do. It's not fair. I miss you so much," Harry said, starting to cry.

'There's nothing you can do to bring me back. But you can still make me proud, Harry'.

"How?"

There were images again, of Peter, lying to harry at his birhtday party, at the planitaruim, and unmasked in the study, angry as he tore the barbed wire off of him. Then there was a final, lasting image; Spider-Man standing beside his father's dead body.

'You know what you need to do, Harry.'

"But Peter's my best friend..."

"He _was_ your friend, Harry. He lied to you. He killed me. And then he pretended to be your friend as if nothing had happened. He's a liar. Liars don't deserve your friendship.'

Someone turned on another light in the hallway, and Norman's reflection appeared in the window.

"Dad," Harry said. He was losing control of his thoughts. Nothing made sense anymore.

'You can still make me proud, Harry. You want to make me proud, don't you?'

"Yes."

'You know what you need to do?'

'Yes. But how? I'm stuck in here. There's no one to sign me out."

'I can get you out of here, but I need your help. You'll have to follow my instructions.'

"What do I do?"

'Get some rest. I'll tell you what to do in the morning. Today, we're getting out of here.'

Harry didn't notice the verbal slip in the statement. He was too tired to care.

'Can you do it, Harry? What are you willing to do for me?'

"Anything."

Harry blinked, and when he opened his eyes, his father's reflection was gone. He fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

"Stop here," Norman ordered.

The large van, towing a black moving truck, parked alongside a barbed wire fence surrounding a military warehouse. Norman opened passenger-side door and got out.

"Wait here," he said to the men in the van as he closed the door.

He walked up to the fence. The warehouse was usually guarded during the day, and at night, the fence was electrified. It was early in the morning, too dark for anyone to see him, although that soon wouldn't matter. Norman jumped over the fence gracefully, landing on his feet, next to the security panel beside the gate. Opening the panel, he typed in the security code from memory, and the gates opened.

"How'd you open the gate," one of the men asked. Norman grabbed the man's arm as the others headed toward the warehouse.

"Don't question me. I'm paying you to move equipment, not to think," Norman snarled.

The man, a 6-foot, 4-inch ex-convict, winced. From his grip or from the menacing look in his eye, Norman didn't know, and didn't care. He entered a second security code beside the warehouse door, then waved to the driver. The van drove into the warehouse loading area, behind the other men. Norman immediately headed for the next room, where the equipment he was looking for was kept.

"Holy ," the ex-con whispered.

In front of them was a full collection of the Green Goblin's equipment and weaponry.

"What are you waiting for? Pack it all up," Norman ordered.

The men reluctantly began to load everything into the moving truck. After the bombs and special ammunition for the glider had been packed away, the ex-con turned to face the task of removing a Goblin suit from its case, one different from what he'd seen in the paper. Just looking at the mask, so life-like and mocking, gave him the shivers.

"Hey, Tom, what do you think this is," a man asked, holding a case full of stacked tubes containing green liquid.

"No idea, and I don't care. Hurry up. This place gives me the creeps," Tom responded.

The man nodded, and Tom turned back toward the Goblin suit. As he looked at the case, he stumbled back, barely catching himself on an empty crate. The suit was gone.

"Where's Mr. Sinclair," he called out.

"Right _here_," Norman answered, rising up from behind the steel-backed case on the glider.

"But that's Goblin to you. The _Green _Goblin."

The other workers had stopped what they were doing, staring.  
One of them suddenly ran for the door. The Green Goblin fired off a round of bullets into the man as he pressed a button on a remote he had in his hand, and all of the exits closed. The man was knocked into the wall behind him, his blood drenching it as he slumped to the ground, dead. They were trapped.

"Fools," The Green Goblin commented.

The others scattered in all directions, trying to hide behind cases and crates. Norman laughed as he grabbed one of them by the shirt, opening fire on the others. He flew right by the glass case, extending his arm. Glass pelted down on Tom as the man smashed through the case, landing on a large, jagged peice that had become wedged into the stand for the suit. His eyes glazed over in horror, blood dripping from his mouth.

Tom had fallen as the first shots had been fired, sitting against the case with his hands around his knees. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of screaming and gunfire. Suddenly, it stopped. Everything was silent except for his own terrified, ragged breath. 

He waited for a few moments, deciding what to do, then got up and ran to the door, banging on it and trying to find a way out. He heard the crackle of glass beneath a foot, and turned.

Before he could even take a breath, a hand wrapped around his throat, and he was lifted off the ground. The Green Goblin, now off of the glider, laughed at him.

"Did you really think that you could get away," he asked, amused.

Tom clawed at the hand in vain, black dots starting to dance across his eyes.

"Let me go," he croaked in desperation.

"After what you've seen," Norman replied.

"Please. I won't tell anyone, I promise," Tom pleased, starting to cough.

"I can't do that. Sorry. I have great plans for this city, and they're not about to be ruined by some low-life street thug like you."

Norman squeezed, and there was a loud _crack_ as Tom's neck broke. Norman dropped him on the ground like a defective toy, and walked over to the glider. He picked it up and pressed a button on his remote. The doors opened. He threw the glider into the back of the moving truck. He took off the Goblin armor, his clothes underneath it, and placed the armor on the floor of the van's passenger seat. He got into the driver's side.

It was the anniversery of his supposed death, and it would be the anniversery of his return to his rightful identity; that of the Green Goblin.

'It's good to be back,' he thought, and drove away.


	5. Chapter 5

'It's time, Harry', the voice whispered.

Harry opened his eyes, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind as he sat up, but he was too numb to act on it, still half-asleep.

'It's simple. Just follow my directions, and you'll be free.'

Free. It was something Harry had wanted to be since the moment he was brought here. Free... in the back of his mind, he also knew that he wanted to be free of the voice in his head, of the Goblin. But he would never be free.

'Then you can avenge my death,' the voice continued. 'But there is only one way you can become powerful enough to face the one you must destroy.'

"How?," Harry asked.

'You must become what I created. You must live up to my legacy. The Osborn legacy. The legacy of the Goblin.'

Harry's hands shook as he tried to gain resolve. He didn't want to do this... and yet, he had no choice.

"What do I do?"

'I'll tell you soon. Pretend to fall back asleep.'

Harry did so, trying to stay awake and prepare himself for what would happen next. A minute later, Jeff, the nurse, came in.

"Medication time, Mr. Osborn."

'Just let me take over. This will end soon.'

Harry relaxed, giving up what remaining control he had over his own consciousness. When Harry didn't respond, Jess walked over the the other side of the bed.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," he said, setting the tray down.

Still nothing.

"C'mon, wake up. It's time to take your crazy pills, you dumb-"

Harry's eyes opened as his hand lashed out, grabbing Jeff by the throat, his fingers positioned in such a way that Jeff's attempts to speak only resulted in a strange gurgling sound.

Harry continued to hold on as he got out of the bed, pinning Jeff to the wall. Harry began to protest as Jeff's face contorted with lack of oxygen, but still he held on. He tried to force his hand to open as Jeff slowly lost consciousness, but the Goblin urged him to stop fighting. There was nothing he could do. Jeff died.

'He would've woken up, and the plan would've been ruined,' the voice insisted. A single tear ran down Harry face with shame for what he had done, but he moved as though he were in a daze, removing Jeff's coat and putting it on. The only difference between the patients was a white coat and a an identification tag with a key card, which Harry attached to himself over the coat.

Harry and Jeff looked quite similar; no one would look past his brown hair and sharp features. He lifted Jeff's body onto the bed, positioning him so he faces the wall, and pulled the covers over him.

'Now, just walk out of here. Look straight ahead and don't talk to anyone.'

Harry did as instructed, his tear dried, calming walking down the corridors until he reached the exit, then opened the door with the key card. He threw the coat and tag in the garbage as he crossed the parking lot toward the mansion. Harry stayed out of sight as he neared his house, ducking behind a bush as he saw the guard in front of the door. Oscorp must've hired them to make sure that no one broke in and stole the classified documents kept in the study.

From where the guard stood, Harry would not be able to get to get to any of the other doors without being seen. He waited until the guard turned away to light a cigarette, then sprinted to the next bush, closer to the side of the house and out of view. The guard turned back, oblivious to Harry's movement. Now safe, Harry ran to the back of the house, staring up at the balcony that led to the study.

A lattice board lay against the side of the house, covered in dead rose vines. Harry climbed slowly up the ladder, careful not to look down, the irony of scaling a building in that way hitting him half-way up. The climb seemed impossibly long, but finally he reached the ledge, and pulled himself over it.

Harry spotted a wrought-iron chair next to the doors, and picked it up. They're shouldn't be anyone inside to hear him; if there was... he'd deal with that if it happened. He pulled back and smashed the chair into the door with the lock. The glass shattered, but as the sound faded from his mind, he looked into the room, and the shiver that had always accompanied it didn't happen. He had no reason to be afraid, or ashamed, or angry; he was home.

He walked quickly to the broken mirror, stopping only to shove open both of the balcony doors, and stepped inside. The lights came on as he entered, bathing the equipment in an eerie green glow. Harry picked up the mask that had once belonged to his father, thinking about what it meant.

'The time has come, Harry. Time to fullfill your destiny. To live up to the Osborn legacy...'

"The legacy of the Goblin," Harry whispered in response. He set the mask back on it's stand and looked over at the chamber, beside which stood stacked tubes of Goblin formula and a desk with a computer. Harry removed one of the tubes and placed it in a holder. He typed a code into the computer, and the chamber opened. He stepped inside.

Only once he was inside and the door had closed did he begin to feel nervous. The timer he had set on the computer went off, and the green gas rose through a steel grate beneath him. It enveloped him, entering his blood stream. He began to panic as he started to have trouble breathing. His muscles spasmed, his entire body shaking all on it's own, going numb.

He broke out of his trance, using what little strength he had left to bang against the windows until his legs refused to obey him, and he fell onto the cold metal surface, helpless.

'Sleep. Don't fight it. And when you wake up, you'll be ready.'

Harry took a last breath before falling into unconscious, and used it to offer a single message to someone who he knew couldn't hear him.

"I'm sorry Peter," he whispered, and the blackness closed in.


	6. Chapter 6

Devon dropped the police report on the table and sat down on his sofa with a sigh

Devon dropped the police report on the table and sat down on his sofa with a sigh. He stayed there a moment, his hands crossed under his chin, staring at the phone. He glanced over at the report again, trying to decide if he should do this. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Hello?," Alexia answered.

Devon took a deep breath. Just the sound of her voice brought a vivid image of her, making his heart beat faster.

"Hi, Alexia," he said.

"Devon? What is it?," she asked. She sounded a bit wary, but not as though she were annoyed that he had called.

"I think I've discovered something very important, but I don't have anyone else to talk to about it," Devon replied.

Alexia was silent, and Devon was afraid that she'd hung up.

"What did you find out?", she finally asked.

"I just received a police report about a break in and multiple homicide at an OsCorp warehouse. The place was for storing equipment from abandoned military projects. The things there would've been worth millions if sold to the right people, but barely any of it was taken.

Alexia, everything stolen was from a classified project involving a supposed superhuman formula, along with equipment used by the Green Goblin. Everything he had. Armor, the glider, the special ammunition. I think he's back."

"That's impossible," Alexia said confidently.

"The only other possibility is that we have a copycat. But the eight people murdered at the warehouse were killed with the glider. There's no other ammunition like it in the world, and there are only 3 people who have ever been able to use it. One of them died of cancer last year. One is of them is on duty in Iraq. And the other, the Green Goblin, disappeared 2 years ago.

Unless someone had received secret glider-flying lessons, there's only one person who could've done it. The bastard's alive. I know it."

"What are the police doing about it?," Alexia asked, skeptical.

"They're opening an investigation about it, but they're not going to do anything as long as the military's involved. Not even Jameson will touch it. He told me to file it and not say anything."

He paused, wondering if he should tell her.

"I have a theory," he said.

"Yes?"

"Look at who the Green Goblin targeted 2 years ago. An OsCorp scientist, the only one who objected to the superhuman formula being tested on people. All of the OsCorp board members," he said, then continued, with a bit of pain in his voice, "And researchers and military officials from Quest. Who benefited from their deaths?"

Alexia didn't say anything. Her silence told him more than words would have; she didn't like where this was going.

"I think I know who it is, but I don't have it all worked out yet. I need proof."

"What are you going to do when you have proof?," Alexia asked, her voice sharp.

"I'm going to tell the world. I'm going to make damn sure that he rots in prison for the rest of his life," Devon responded darkly, just as much to himself as to Alexia.

"Devon, if what you think is true, if the Green Goblin is back, you know you can't do this. The police won't be able to arrest him. He'll find out who you are, and he'll come after you," Alexia said.

"I don't care. It'll be worth it."

Despite the truth in his words, he instantly regretted saying it to Alexia, afraid she'd hang up, or worse, yell at him. Instead, after a moment, he was surprised by what she had to say.

"I want to help you," she said.

"You do?"

"Yes... I know how much this means to you, and I want to help."

"That's... thank you."

Suddenly, Devon felt a nearly over-whelming sensation... one that he hadn't felt since he was last in her presence. A feeling he'd tried to forget, for all the pain it had caused him because she was gone... love. That was the only way he could say it, the only thing it could be.

"I miss you, Alexia," he said impulsively. But he felt a need to continue, to explain before she could interrupt.

"I miss you a lot. I... I know this sounds weird, but ever since you broke up with me, I've felt like something has just been missing. I don't understand how it could've happened so fast, but I really think... that I love you," he said. He braced himself for rejection, for the soul-tearing sadness he'd felt outside the cafe.

"I...," she stopped, trying to figure out how to word this without sounding cliché or stupid. "I love you too."

There was silence on both ends, both of them facing the truth.

"Why did you break up with me?", Devon asked tentatively.

"I'm sorry. I just have... issues with trusting. There are just some things I can't tell you, and I thought it would be better to leave then to put you through that."

"It doesn't matter. Everyone has secrets."

"Promise you won't ask questions about thing I don't want to talk about?", she asked.

Devon's heart leapt at the implication of getting back together.

"I promise."

Alexia tried to calm herself down, to control the situation.

"Okay. How about we meet somewhere and we can try to figure this out. Your theory, I mean," she added awkwardly.

"Sure. What about at that book shop on 57th? The one with the Starbucks in it?"

"Sounds good."

"Okay... 12:00?"

"Okay."

Another awkward silence.

"I'll see you there," Devon said.

"'Bye, " Alexia said.

She hung up, wiping her eyes with her hand, but the tears didn't stop. Devon knew about Norman. She was sure of it. She also knew that Norman would kill anyone in his way. He would never be arrested. Until either she or Peter stopped him - permanently - she knew that he would go after Devon. She had to protect him, even if it meant destroying his one chance at avenging his uncle's death.

Peter and MJ had gone over to MJ's mother's house to plan the wedding. Alexia picked up the phone and dialed MJ's number.

"Hello?"

"Is Peter there? This is very important."


	7. Chapter 7

'Ahahahahahahaha

_'Ahahahahahahaha!'_

The voice echoed through Harry's mind as he slowly regained consciousness, groggy from his unwillful sleep. He stood up slowly, his body aching from its transformation, and opened the door of the chamber.

He started to walk toward the Goblin suit, surveying the equipment around him. But as he reached to open the case, he noticed another one, covered with a white sheet. Curious, he pulled it off.

There in the case was a second Goblin suit, different than the one his father had worn. Though the torso of the suit was very similar, it was a few shades of green darker. A purple bag, so dark it was nearly black, was draped across it, obviously for storing weapons not intended for the glider.

The arms and legs were also a bit different. Round metal spikes adorned the tops of the hands, four on each, designed to add pain to a blow but not to pierce the skin. The boots began just below the knee, made especially to fit into the glider it was meant for, its tips slightly pointed to make a kick break ribs easily.

The mask was like nothing Harry had seen before, not in his father's collection, nor anywhere else; it was made of a flexible material with yellow, glowing eye-pieces, the 'skin' a shade of green matching the rest of the suit, it's expression somewhere between a laugh and a menacing glare that would make grown men shake from fright. That was, after all, its intention.

Finishing the suit was a long purple cloak, so dark that only direct light would show that it wasn't black, its hood casting dark shadows over the mask. Harry liked this suit _much_ better.

He opened the back of the case and removed it from the stand. Walking toward the glider that matched it, he began to put the suit on in pieces. It was actually comfortable, with an inner layer of rubber beneath the armor and around the elbows and knees, allowing for maximum rotation and movement.

He left the mask until last, holding it in one hand as he pressed a button one the arm of the suit, and the glider rose off of its stand, hovering just above the ground in front of him. Harry strapped himself in.

He flew around the room once tentatively, then again, faster, until it became familiar; his heightened senses reacted in time with the glider, and flying it seemed as natural as walking. He stopped in front of the shelves of pumpkin bombs and put as many as he could fit into his bag.

After checking to make sure that the glider's guns were loaded, he flew into the study, where the balcony doors stood open, as he had left them. At last, he lifted the mask over his head, a perfect fit. Harry's subconscious could not fight back as he prepared himself for what he needed to do, then flew out of the balcony doors toward the hospital.

A few people on the street below screamed as he appeared over them, instantly reaching for their cell phones but stayed rooted in place. Harry let out a loud, psychotic cackle as he neared the hospital, and crashed through the window of the floor he had been on.

Everyone cried out in alarm, most of them running toward the exit, but Harry beat them there. He spotted a metal railing along the wall and ripped it out, threading it through the pull-open door handles and bent it around into a knot, effectively trapping everyone inside.

That done, he went directly to the psychiatrists office, pushing open the door with one hand. Dr. MacLean jumped out of his chair, backing up against the wall, terrified.

"What do you want?," he asked as Harry circled around the desk, then grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him off the ground, turning him toward the computer.

"Harry Osborn's file. Open it," Harry commanded harshly, in a voice he barely recognized as his own. The doctor did so.

"Change it to say that he was discharged yesterday afternoon," he continued. The doctor's hands shook, misspelling everything, unable to type.

"Do it!," Harry ordered, impatient.

The doctor forced himself to slow down, back-spacing and filling in the requested date. He saved the file, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Before the doctor could protest or plead with him, Harry hit him hard across the face, breaking his cheek bones and knocking him into unconsciousness.

He flew back out into the main area, removing a pumpkin bomb from his bag. But this one was special, filled with enough explosive properties to level the building. He hesitated, using what little control he had left to try to stop himself. He didn't want to do this. So many innocent people would die.

'They don't matter, Harry. None of them matter. If they live, you'll pay the price. The police will hunt you down, and eventually, they'll catch you. Your life will be ruined,' the voice reminded him.

It was true. There was no other option. Harry took a deep breath as he looked at the chaos around him, strengthening his resolve. He needed to do this. For his father. For himself.

Activating the bomb, he threw it at the door as he flew out the window. It rolled a few feet, the light blinking.

It exploded just as Harry reached the end of the block, completely obliterating the hospital, and everyone inside.


	8. Chapter 8

"I can't believe this," Peter said, shaking is head

"I can't believe this," Peter said, shaking is head.

"Believe it," Alexia mumbled.

They were walking down 57th street, toward the place that Alexia was supposed to meet Devon.

"How could he know?," Peter asked.

"He's been working on this for years. All he needed to do was look at the connection to Norman; OsCorp," Alexia answered.

"You're absolutely sure he knows?"

Alexia hesitated.

"No... he didn't actually who he thought it was. But if he's focusing on OsCorp, I can't think of anyone else his research would lead to," Alexia replied.

"What are we going to do?," Peter sighed, frustrated.

"About Norman, or about Devon?"

"Both."

"You should be on alert in case Norman comes after you, or MJ. I'm going to help Devon get proof."

At Peter's disbelieving look, she added, "And then I'll destroy it."

It was for his own protection. She didn't even want to think about what might happen afterward, but she knew that this course of action was her only choice. He would hate her, but at least he'd still be alive.

Providing, of course, that she or Peter, though she wasn't sure if Peter could go through with it, could stop Norman permanently, even if it meant killing him. And that Norman wouldn't end up killing them first.

Alexia looked at her watch.

"You'd better go. I can't imagine the questions he'd ask if he knew that you know me, " she said.

Peter nodded.

"Maybe I should ask MJ if she could stay at her mother's for a while," he said, mostly to himself, and started walking in the opposite direction.

Alexia walked into the cafe part of the store and sat down at a table close to the door, early. Her nerves all but literally hummed with nervousness, afraid of what she was about to do, but also anxious to see him.

There was an indescribable moment as Alexia looked up at the doorway where Devon stood, bathed in the late fall sunlight, looking back at her. Almost as if against her will, she stood and went to him. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, only inches apart, studying the other's reaction.

Neither of them knew who made the first move, but they were suddenly in each other's arms, kissing. For both of them, it was as though they'd waited a lifetime for that moment. When they finally pulled apart, Devon hugged her, his head resting on her shoulder.

"I missed you," he whispered.

She returned the hug, both of them fighting back tears.

"I missed you too," she replied.

They separated, still holding hands, and walked over to the table.

"I don't know what to say," Devon said awkwardly. Alexia smiled nervously.

"How have you been?," Devon asked.

"Things have been a little hectic. Two of my friends are getting married," Alexia answered, then instantly regretted it. The moment she'd seen him, all thoughts of the danger they would soon face had fled her mind.

"I got a new job," she added quickly. Devon smiled, remembering how they had first met.

"What do you do?"

"Same as before, but at a place I'm actually excited about using an employee discount on. I get to dress up in silky black shirts and Gothic make-up and get paid for it, " Alexia replied.

"Sounds nice," Devon commented.

"It is. What have you been up to?," Alexia asked.

"Research, research, and more research," Devon responded. With the implication of what they were actually there to talk about, the feeling between them changed.

"I still hate what this will mean, if you find out who it is," Alexia said. Devon looked down.

"I already know," he said.

Alexia took a deep breath.

"Who is it?"

Alexia felt a sensation like her heart dropping into her stomach as she said the words. This was what she had feared. She wished to every God she'd ever heard of that he was wrong.

"The only one left. The only one who-"

He broke off abruptly as his cell phone rang. He sighed, and at Alexia's reluctant nod, answered it. Alexia watched as shock came over his face.

"The entire building? All of them? Are you sure?," he said into the phone. His expression started to change from shock to the familiar one that he wore whenever the Green Goblin was mentioned, a combination of grief and intense hate.

"Yes. Yes, I'll be right there. Ten minutes," he said, and hung up.

"There's absolutely no doubt now. He's back," Devon said, looking back at Alexia.

"An entire hospital was just blown up. Witnesses say that they saw him fly away," he elaborated.

Alexia remained silent, only nodding. She closed her eyes and opened them again, almost overwhelmed. This was real. It was happening. Now.

"Want to go for a car ride?", Devon asked.

Alexia mumbled a sound of approval. They got up and Alexia followed him to his car.

'Please, let him be wrong', she thought as she got in. 'Let him be wrong.'


	9. Chapter 9

Norman stared in shock at the tv screen while inside, the Goblin laughed

Norman stared in shock at the tv screen while inside, the Goblin laughed. The news station was playing back a clip of the hospital blowing up. The camera focused on the figure flying out of the window of one of the higher floors. There was a close-up on the mask the figure was wearing, so different than his own, and yet, the same.

"Harry?", he whispered.

He dropped to his knees in front of the tv, reaching out with his hand as if he could touch his son's face.

'It's a family tradition now!', the Goblin howled excitedly, then gave a thunderous cackle.

"Shut up!", Norman screamed.

'Or what?', the Goblin yelled threateningly. Norman crossed his arms over his knees, starting to sob tearlessly.

For the past two years, he had mostly stopped arguing with it, his own lust for power and vengeance making disagreements pointless. But he had meant what he had said the last time he'd seen Harry; he had been a terrible father, and he planed to make up for it.

Once all obstacles had been out of his way, he would have stopped his killing sprees to spend time with his son. Whether the Goblin would have allowed him to stop, he still didn't know. He doubted it.

Slowly, the Goblin broke through Norman's depression enough to calm him down.

'Look at him, following in your footsteps. Don't you see? He's trying to make you proud.'

"He thinks I'm dead," Norman replied.

'And yet he drives on, trying to honor your memory. He knows his rightful place in the world now, and he's working toward it. Like a true Osborn, strong. No longer the weakling you knew. Be proud of him, Norman,' the voice said soothingly.

He grabbed the remote and turned off the tv. He looked down, appearing to sob again. Then he looked up suddenly, laughing. The Goblin was right. It always was. All of those years he'd been disappointed in Harry didn't matter. Now his son was someone to be proud of, worthy of the name 'Osborn'.

He had the sudden urge to see his son, to embrace him, to tell him how proud he was. To make up for all of those lost years, before _and_ after his disappearance. Then another thought occurred to him.

What if they could work together? Fight side by side, as father and son, to defeat a common enemy?

Norman got up and grabbed his coat from the chair, heading for the door. Harry would most likely return home soon. And Norman would be waiting for him.


	10. Chapter 10

The hospital had been reduced to little more than smoldering embers by the time Devon and Alexia arrived

The hospital had been reduced to little more than smoldering embers by the time Devon and Alexia arrived. Devon parked the car a safe distance behind an ambulance and got out. He and Alexia immediately walked over to the police officers who stood just beyond the yellow type surrounding the ruins.  
News vans, camera crews and reporters seemed to be everywhere.

"Can I help you?," said one of the policemen. He was older than most police officers Devon had seen, with graying hair and an almost grandfatherly look about him, but with the expression of cynical focus that he had come to associate with cops.

"I'm a reporter for the Daily Bugle," Devon said, showing the man his press pass.

"And you are?," he directed at Alexia.

"She's my assistant," Devon improvised.

"Very well. You can look around, but don't touch anything."

Devon nodded.

"Can I have your name and rank, please?," he asked, taking out a notebook.

"Captain George Stacy."

"Thanks."

Devon lifted the yellow tape, and he and Alexia walked toward what was left of the hospital. They were approached by another, much younger officer, who frowned when he saw the logo on the press pass.

"I'll bet Jonah's seeing green, but it has nothing to do with the freak on the glider," he commented, almost to himself.

Alexia smirked at this.

"What caused the explosion?," Devon asked.

"A special military-made bomb. It's the kind of stuff terrorists dream about. I doubt the lab will even be able to examine it because of clearance issues. But don't quote me on that."

Devon jotted the information down.

"Do you know what the motive might've been?"

"Off the record?"

Devon nodded.

"Not a clue. The guy tried to bomb Times Square during the middle of a festival. I wouldn't be surprised if he was just a pyromaniac out for kicks," he replied.

Out of the corner of his eye, Devon noticed something strange. A garbage can knocked on its side. But it was what appeared to be in it that was important.

"Could you let me examine that, please?," he asked, gesturing to it. The officer was surprised by the request, but picked the material up with a gloved hand, and showed it to Devon.

It was a white coat, obviously from the hospital, without any apparent damage from the explosion. Then Devon noted the tag on the front, and the picture on it.

Captain Stacy beckoned the younger officer over. He gestured that he'd be there in a moment, then looked at the ruins and back at Devon and Alexia.

"You guys bash Spider-Man all the time, but if he's made it his job to stop this nutcase... I say 'all the power to him'," he said, then set the coat over the trash can and left.

Alexia folded her arms, looking up, imagining the Green Goblin flying above. She wondered what would've happened if she'd been here only an hour ago. Could she have stopped him?

She took out her cell phone and called MJ.

"Hello?"

"Hey MJ. Is Peter there?," Alexia asked.

"He went out. I was just about to call you. We found an opening at a church, but it's two days from now. Think you could come over and get fitted for your dress today? There's so much to do, and it's such short notice... "

Alexia paused a moment before answering, wondering how to break the news.

"I'll be over soon... but MJ, something terrible just happened. Turn on the news."

She did so, only a small gasp escaping her lips when she saw what had happened.

"Oh my God... it's true... what you said... "

Alexia didn't know what to say. It was so soon before the wedding... what were they going to do?

"But the wedding... ", MJ said, echoing Alexia's thoughts. "I'll have to ask Peter when he gets back, but I think this should still happen... especially if... "

MJ stopped, trying to hold back tears. Just when they were so close to being married, so close to finalizing their relationship. What she had almost said was 'especially if he leaves to find Norman'. What if Peter got injured or worse, if he would leave her again because he didn't want to draw attention to her as a possible hostage, what if...

No. She had already been through this. She knew what being with him meant, what they were both risking. She loved Peter, and nothing would stop that no matter what they faced. This wedding _would_ happen. She didn't want to think that it might be the last thing they would do together, but couldn't help it.

"Alexia... no matter what happens, I want this wedding to take place. We don't know that Norman's going to do anything yet... we should focus on the wedding if we can," MJ said.

"You're right. There's no use in worrying yet. We'll deal with it if something happens," Alexia replied, then added, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay. Goodbye."

"'Bye."

Alexia hung up, looking over at Devon, who was still studying the coat. She could tell that he was angry.

"I'm betting that he took this guy's coat, used it to get in or out of the building, then threw it away... _this_ is the motive. Something or someone in the hospital," Devon said, but confusion and frustration showed on his face as he continued," But this man was too young. He's too old to have used this... "

Alexia frowned, sure he was getting closer, that he already knew the truth. Devon took out his cell phone and dialed.

"Hey, Charles, can you check the Midtown Hospital database for Harry Osborn?"

Alexia knew what he was thinking, just as confused as he was. Norman was too old to have used the coat, someone would've noticed the difference immediately. But his son, Harry...

"Thanks Charles," Devon said, hanging up. He looked skyward, his fists clenching in frustration.

"Harry was admitted to the hospital after some sort of nervous breakdown a few weeks ago. He checked out yesterday. I think he did it. He forced a doctor to change the date, then came back to destroy the evidence," he explained.

Alexia tried to look understanding and sympathetic, but she was too worried. He looked at her, ready to tell her the truth.

"Norman Osborn is the Green Goblin. Or was, before this... He was the only one who would've benefitted from the deaths of the board members. It left him fully in charge of OsCorp, and when he killed my uncle, he was trying to destroy the competition..."

Absolute fury was in his eyes, and Alexia understood how much of an obsession this had become. No matter who he had been or what his personality was like, how he felt, it was always there, just beneath the surface, like a cold fire of hate for the man who had killed his uncle.

Even in Peter, who had had a similar situation, she hadn't seen such a reaction; he was sad and frustrated when he spoke of his uncle's death. Then again, Peter blamed himself for his uncle's death, but Devon was only consumed with hatred for Norman.

"But if Harry did this... could he have... maybe I have been chasing a ghost. Maybe he did die. I can't handle this," Devon said. Alexia wanted to comfort him, to embrace him and tell him that it would be all right. But it was like there was a wall between them whenever the subject of the Green Goblin was brought up. A secret that would forever divide them.

"Can I drive you back to your bike? I need to be alone right now," he asked.

Alexia nodded. She realized that she had hardly spoken to him since they'd arrived; there had been nothing that she could have said that wouldn't have been a lie.

When they arrived in front of the bookstore where her bike was parked, Devon only stared out the windshield and into his own world as she got out.

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay?", Alexia asked.

"Okay," Devon replied absently.

He drove away as she started her bike. As much as she wanted to help him, to be with him through this, he needed some time to be alone. She would help him when he was ready. In any case, she had a wedding to prepare for, and drove off toward where MJ was staying.


	11. Chapter 11

"Mr

"Mr. Osborn! I didn't know you were coming back... so soon," Bernard said, standing in the doorway, "How are you, sir?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry for my behavior a few weeks ago. I had too much to drink," Harry replied.

Bernard just opened the door all of the way and stepped back to allow him in, unsure of how to respond. Harry walked toward the staircase.

"You can go home now," he said, his back turned.

Bernard looked at him, puzzled at how the young man was acting, but left anyway, shutting the door behind him.

Harry ascended the stairs to his study, eager to drown what had happened in alcohol, trying to block everything out. 'Don't think about it. Just don't _think_,' Harry thought to himself. His father's reflection stood near the open balcony doors. He didn't react, all but running to the bar to get a drink.

"Harry?", the reflection said, seemingly confused by his lack of response.

"Why won't you just go away? I followed your stupid ing plan, so just leave me alone," Harry said harshly, then gulped down a shot glass full of the hardest liquor he could find.

"Harry! Why are you talking to me like that? I've been gone for over 2 years, and I don't even get a hello?", the reflection said, hurt.

"What are you talking about? You know what, don't answer that. Just shut up," Harry snapped. He looked closely at the figure, finding it strange that it was there without a reflective surface nearby.

"Harry-"

"I said shut up!," Harry yelled, his temper suddenly out of control. He threw the glass he was holding at the vision, hoping that would make it disappear.  
But instead of the glass breaking against the wall, it stopped. Norman had caught it.

"What are you doing? What's wrong with you?," he asked.

Harry felt like he was going to collapse. Flesh and blood. It was flesh and blood. Was it just another trick? It looked so real...

Harry's eyes teared up as he realized the truth. It was his father. Somehow, he had survived. He was alive. He was here.

"Dad?," Harry said in wonderment. He started to walk toward him.

"It's me, Harry. I'm here."

Harry stopped a moment in front of him, almost unbelieving. Then he reached out and hugged his father, more for comfort than for confirmation that he was real. Norman hugged him back, wondering why Harry had reacted the way he did. Harry let go, looking at him with a relieved smile.

"What happened to you? I thought... I thought that Peter had killed you," Harry asked.

"He tried, Harry. He thought I was dead. He needed to," Norman responded.

"Where have you been? When did you get back?," Harry asked.

"Paris. I was in Paris. I came back a few weeks ago."

Harry shook his head, as if in disbelief. Then for a split second, he saw an illusion. It could've been the way the light hit his face, or his expression, or perhaps something in his eyes. For a moment, his father's face had split into two; half so familiar, it's features smiliar to his own, but the other half was the embodiment of his hate and fear, that had tormented him for years. The mask of the Green Goblin.

Harry felt a familiar presence, and knew that he had seen it on purpose. The voice was back, and it was laughing at him.

"What's wrong, Harry?," Norman asked, seeing the change in his son's face, distant, as if he could see or hear something that Norman did not.

Harry turned his attention back to his father. Norman's expression was so open, so caring. How could this man, his father, possibly be the monster who had tried to kill MJ, who had murdered people in a lust for power?

"Harry?," Norman repeated, reaching out to place a hand on his son's shoulder. Harry recoiled, becoming paranoid and angry. He was out of control, so confused...

"Why didn't you tell me that you were alive?," Harry demanded.

"I couldn't. You would have told someone. You could have told Peter, and everything would've been ruined," Norman replied.

"So instead, you left me here alone? Obsessed with getting revenge when you were alive the whole time?!," Harry yelled.

"It was for your protection!," Norman yelled back, his anger mirroring Harry's.

"For _your_ protection, you mean!"

"Everyone needed to believe that I had died while I recovered. So I could come back... _and finish what I started_," Norman said. His voice had changed, his eyes showing recklessness and insanity. Back to the way Harry had seen him for over 2 years.

"You're crazy," Harry said, starting to move away.

"It must run in the family. I saw the news, Harry. You blew up that hospital full of innocent people..."

"I had to!," Harry yelled.

"Exactly! You did what you had to do to protect yourself. So that you could take what's yours. _'To realize one's own destiny is a person's only obligation'. _You did the right thing," Norman insisted.

"This isn't my destiny!," Harry responded.

"Of course it is! Why else would all this have happened? We're special, Harry. Both of us. We were meant for this. Why deny yourself the power you deserve?," Norman asked.

"I don't want it," Harry said, shaking his head, fighting back tears.

"Yes you do. You're an Osborn. You're my son," Norman said, then clamped his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Help me, Harry. Help me to fullfill my destiny. _Our_ destiny. Together, father and son. Working toward what we deserve. We can rule this city! Only one person stands in our way! He must be destroyed! Help me kill Spider-Man!," Norman yelled, no longer himself. It was only the Goblin talking now.

"No! I don't want to be like you!," Harry screamed.

"You're too late!," the Goblin said, laughing.

"Get out!," Harry said, breaking out of his grip, surprising the Goblin.

"You don't know what you're doing," the Goblin said.

"I said get out!"

The Goblin howled with laughter as he started toward the door.

"Spider-Man will pay! He will die!," he said.

His laughter echoed down the hallway as he left. Harry slammed the door behind him, stopping in just enough time not to break the hinges. He ran to the bar, tears flowing down his face, picking up a bottle of liquor and gulping it down. He was burning inside, but it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He finished it off and reached for another. If it took all day and all night, he would make the pain go away.


	12. Chapter 12

"It's not the hilltop you hoped for, but unless we want to risk having the wedding in a snow storm or wait until spring, it's

"It's not the hilltop you hoped for, but unless we want to risk having the wedding in a snow storm or wait until spring, it's all we've got," Mary Jane said, looking across the table at Peter. Alexia was also there, having arrived 20 minutes earlier.

"It was just a silly daydream. I didn't really expect a wedding like that. Anywhere is fine with me," Peter replied.

"I was thinking of having carnations on the tables in the dinning hall. What do you think, Alexia?," MJ asked.

"Huh?," Alexia mumbled, looking up. "I'm sorry, I'm just... distracted."

MJ nodded. Truthfully, it was only Peter's presence that kept her from breaking down over what had happened. But right now, Alexia had no one.

"I'm trying not to think about it," MJ said.

"I just can't wrap my head around this. Devon's not sure what's happening, and neither do we. I just don't know what to do," Alexia said.

Either way, something really bad is happening. It has to stop," Peter said.

"How do we stop it if we don't even know _who_ to stop? First Devon thought it was Norman. Now he thinks its Harry. But why would he need to break into his own warehouse?," Alexia asked.

"Maybe so that the equipment would be reported as stolen and wouldn't be traced back to him?," MJ suggested.

"It's possible, but that doesn't seem like something that Harry would do. The last time I saw him, he was a wreck. I've never known him to plan ahead that well. Especially something like this... planning to kill people... it's just not him," Peter said.

The phone rang. MJ went into the kitchen to answer it. Peter looked over at Alexia.

"I wasn't sure if I should say this around MJ, but I remembered something. Harry said that he found Norman's equipment behind the mirror in the study. He's had it all along. He wouldn't need to break into the warehouse. So Norman might be back after all," he said.

"Maybe he was helping Harry to escape from the hospital," Alexia suggested.

"Maybe, but the hospital was bombed almost as soon as he went in, and there was only one person on the glider when he came out," Peter pointed out. Alexia sighed, frustrated.

"What are we going to do? We don't even know who this guy is."

"I don't know. But it's only a matter of time before whoever it is comes after me," Peter said.

MJ came back in, carrying an armful of bridal magazines. There was a moment of silence as she set them on the table. Alexia picked one up.

"Well... there's no use sitting here all night worrying. All we can do now is wait. We have a wedding to plan," she said. Peter nodded. MJ smiled, trying to be enthusiastic.

"So, about the cake... "


	13. Chapter 13

'To realize one's own destiny is a person's only obligation

'To realize one's own destiny is a person's only obligation.'

"But this isn't mine... ," Harry whispered.

His eyes were closed, his body relaxed, almost numb. He'd drunken all day and all night, but the pain hadn't left until he'd fallen asleep some time after midnight. He sat in the study, only feet from where he and his father had argued the day before, a cup of coffee in his hands. Over and over, he replayed the conversation in his mind.

For over two years, he'd come home expecting his father to be there, sitting in the study working or persuading some military commander into doing lunch, only to be disappointed when reality set in. And then the anger, the obsession, would start all over again...

But yesterday, his father _had _been there, waiting for him. For over two years, it had been what he'd dreamed about, what he'd wished for. His wish had been granted, but it came with a price. With his father's return, Harry was forced to face the truth; Norman was a maniac, a homicidal psychopath who had killed people for his own gain. If he had ever been a caring, compassionate person, that man was gone, replaced by only a ghost of insanity.

Harry stood up, suddenly restless, knowing that if he stayed there he'd start to think about what he had done. There was only one place that he could think of to go, dispite what it stood for: OsCorp.

Linkin Park blasted from the speakers as Harry pulled into the underground parking lot and stepped out of the car. He received only wary glances as he walked into the elevator, ignoring the people around him.

During his two years as the owner and CEO of OsCorp, Harry had been viewed as an annoyance, little more than a poster-boy to represent the company. To his face, people were respectful, quickly learning not to bring up his father's death unless it was about a project he'd worked on. But behind his back, he was mocked as an empty-headed child with no knowledge of what he was doing.

Looking back on those years, Harry couldn't blame them. He had no interest in science or in business, areas in which his father had excelled.

'Not 'had'. 'Does''," Harry mentally corrected himself. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. The irony of where he was made him uneasy; this place was a 50-story monument to his father.

The elevator reached the floor his office was on. Harry tried his best to stay calm as he used his keycard to get into the outer office, where his secretary's workstation was unoccupied, and went into his office.

The walls were a rich shade of green, almost a dark jade, as were the curtains. The carpet was green with golden edges. Green lamps decorated a dark oak desk, behind which sat a black leather chair. Green pillows rested upon black a black leather sofa next to a black bookcase. The room had the distinct feeling of his father.

Harry knew he couldn't stay there. Already it felt as if the colors themselves called out to him, which he knew was pure insanity. He turned to leave just as a girl carrying a stack of files entered the outer office. It was Karen, his secretary.

"Mr. Osborn, I didn't know you were here. How are you, sir?," she asked. Harry noticed that there was something strange about her. Her posture was rigid, her eye movements scattered, as though she were trying her best not to look at him. Harry just shook his head.

"I was just leaving," he said, and moved to get past her. She all but jumped out of his way, but her desk, beside the door, prevented her from going far. As Harry reached for the door knob, he saw that her hands were shaking.

"Are you all right?," he asked, stopping and looking her in the eye.

"I-," she started, but a file slipped out of her hands.

It fell on the floor, open. A bunch of pictures was inside. Harry looked down at the one on top of the pile, and scowled. It was of him in the study, gulping down a shot of vodka only moments after his father had left. Harry picked up the file, then looked back at Karen.

"You've been spying on me," Harry said, beginning to get angry. Karen looked away, backing up against the desk as far as she could, her hands shaking unconsciously.

She was afraid of him, and Harry knew why. His father must've hired her to watch him. He recalled his father's lack of surprise when Harry had said that he thought that Peter had killed him, something that he couldn't have known that Harry knew. But he did, because he'd hired his secretary to watch him. It was obvious that Karen also knew about Harry's transformation.

Harry heard the whispers of the Goblin beginning, fueled by Karen's fear and his own anger. He stepped back, looking away, trying to resist it. Immediately, Karen moved to go out the door, but Harry couldn't keep control. His hand shot out, grabbing her by the neck and pushing her into the wall.

'Very good. But you're at OsCorp. If she's found here, she's be directly linked to you. Besides...'

Harry dropped her, glaring down at her as she coughed and scrambled to her feet, and ran out of the room. He wasn't worried about him revealing his secret. He had the feeling that she would go to his father, and that would be a fatal mistake. When she told him what had happened, she would've outlived her use. She wouldn't survive the day.

Harry fumed with anger over what his father had done. But more importantly, it unlocked all of his other feelings. Fury at his father, but also at Peter. In a twisted way, Peter was still responsible for his current situation. If he had only let his father's killing spree run it's course, none of this would've happened. Norman wouldn't have threatened MJ, and the fight which had almost ended his life wouldn't have taken place.

MJ... how Harry still loved her. He always had, in his own strange, possessive way. He remembered the burning hatred he'd felt when he saw her and Peter together...

He picked up the phone on Karen's desk and dialed a number.

"Hello?," Aunt May asked.

"Hello, May," he said in his happy, business-face voice," You wouldn't happen to know where Peter is, would you?"

"Oh, Harry. Peter's over at Mary Jane's mother's house," she answered.

"Thank you," Harry said, about to hang up.

"No problem, dear. It's just too bad that you couldn't have been the best man."

"What?," Harry asked.

"At the wedding. He didn't tell you?"

"No. Actually, I've been meaning to apologize to him. Maybe I could talk to him before the wedding. Where is it?"


	14. Chapter 14

Everything was beautiful

Everything was beautiful.

From the flowers that decorated the edges of the pews to the dresses and tuxedos worn by those attending, every detail seemed perfect. MJ's mother and her side of the family sat in the front row, across from Aunt May with her friends and some of Peter's classmates. Numerous old classmates from Midtown High dotted the aisles. Even Flash Thompson had accepted the invitation, smirking at how the geek had gotten the girl.

Alexia stood in her place as bridesmaid, beside the maid of honor: Louise, MJ's best friend and co-star in The Importance of Being Earnest.

In another room, MJ tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach. Her dress was much different than the last one; it was long-sleeved and hugged her body, silk billowing out from the lace of the torso to form the train. Her deep red hair had been pulled back into a simple bun, highlighted by the white lace headdress that looked like a halo around her head.

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. This time, there was no hesitation, no doubt in her mind as to whether she was doing the right thing. She loved Peter, and they were getting married.

'Mary Jane Watson-Parker,' she mused to herself. Then her father, delightfully sober and the happiest she'd ever seen him, took her hand. It was time for the vows.

Peter looked up as the wedding music started, literally breathless when he saw MJ beginning to walk down the aisle. She was beautiful, and in minutes, she would be his wife. How could be possibly be this lucky?

For a few wonderful moments, all eyes were on her, everyone smiling and many crying as she made her way to the alter, her father at her side. Finally, she stood in front of Peter, and the music stopped. They looked into each other's eyes, smiling.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is a state of union not to be entered into lightly or inadvisably. It is a commitment to a person that you love.

There will be many trials of faithfulness, many difficulties to be faced. Through marriage, a love can flourish, or diminish. It is the duty of a married couple to try for the former. In the end, all we have is love; the love of a family, the love of friends, the love of a soul mate, and the love of God."

The priest paused.

"If anyone present here knows of any reason why these two people should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

There was only silence as everyone awaited the vows. The priest turned to MJ.

"Do you, Mary Jane Watson, take this man, Peter Parker, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish from this day forward until death do you part?"

MJ smiled even wider, tears gathering in her eyes.

"I do."

The priest turned to Peter.

"And do you, Peter Parker, take this woman, Mary Jane Watson, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish from this day forward until death do you part?"

Peter took a deep breath, feeling shaky with nervousness. Looking directly into MJ's eyes, feeling as though her lips were already on his... After what seemed an eternity, he was finally able to speak.

"I-"

'No, no, no! Not now! It can't be!', he thought as he stopped, a familiar feeling humming inside his head. There was only enough time to look over at Alexia, who wore the same expression of expectation as he did, before it happened.

Peter dove for the floor, grabbing MJ and the priest's arms to take them down with him. Alexia did the same with the bridesmaids. Glass fell upon them as the stained-glass window shattered. Chaos ensued as people got up from their seats, tripping on dresses and over each other as they ran for the exit.

Peter heard a familiar laugh as he stood up to face the danger, looking around for a place to change. He looked up, staring almost unbelievingly at the figure looking down at him, something he never thought he'd see again despite Alexia's insistence.

The Green Goblin's eyes were fixed on him, glaring hatefully, as he could tell from the way the mask was formed. It conformed to the wearer's face, mimicking the expressions exactly. Peter wondered at the change in costume, but only glared back. There were too many people around. He would have to wait until Norman left to go after him.

The Goblin flew lower until he was directly in front of Peter. Body language told Peter that he was straining with hatred. He was shocked as the Goblin hit him across the face, so fast that he had no time to react, and was knocked to the floor. This seemed almost... familiar for some reason.

The thought was interrupted as the Green Goblin turned toward MJ and grabbed her by the arm. Peter quickly began to pick himself up, and saw Alexia approaching from the other direction. She hadn't changed yet either, glancing from Peter to the Goblin to MJ, unsure of what to do.

MJ struggled, uselessly trying to wrench herself out of his grip, and Peter was worried that she'd break her arm. The Goblin took her other arm, crossing them in front of her, shaking her.

"MJ, stop it!," he said.

She did, but only because she was shocked to hear the voice that had said the command. Peter, now standing and walking toward them, was equally surprised.

"Harry?," MJ said, quiet enough so that only the four of them could hear.

"We need to talk," he said simply. He wrapped a hand around her waist as the glider began to rise.

"MJ!," Peter yelled, running to the spot where they had been, suddenly not caring if everyone saw him. His secret would be revealed, he would be hunted down until he gave himself up, but it would be worth it to save MJ.

Alexia put a hand on his shoulder as the glider reached the shattered window. She started to say something, but was interrupted as Harry removed a pumpkin bomb from his bag and threw it into the middle of the aisle. The blast hit some of the people who were trying to push their way out, injuring many. With that, Harry flew out of the window, Mary Jane in tow.

Peter looked back at those who had fallen, then toward Harry and MJ fading in the distance.

"I'll handle this. You go get MJ," Alexia said.

Peter nodded, grateful that she was there, and ran out of view to change.


	15. Chapter 15

I said 'let me go

I said 'let me go!'", MJ screamed.

"I don't think you want me to do that," Harry said.

They were flying dozens of stories above the ground, at almost 80 miles an hour.

"Why are you doing this?!," MJ yelled at him.

Harry didn't reply, leaning to the right, guiding the glider toward their destination.

"Where are you taking me?!," MJ cried out in frustration. Why wouldn't he just answer her.

"We're almost there," Harry said simply.

Trying vainly to ignore the blurring buildings below, MJ looked past him to where they were going: the Brooklyn Bridge.

"No!," MJ screamed, horrified.

"Yes," Harry said.

'This can't be Harry,' MJ thought,' Harry would never... I can't believe this! He's going to throw me off the bridge!'

Harry slowed the glider down as they approached the nearest platform, carefully lowering it onto the metal surface. MJ jumped away as Harry bent down to release his footholds, and stepped off.

"I'm getting really, _really_ tired of this villain's hostage ," MJ said, letting her anger overcome her fear. "You know what? Fine. Do it. Throw me off, because I can't take this any more. Kill me."

Harry's body language changed significantly as he neared her.

"_Kill_ you? MJ-", Harry said, reaching up and taking his mask off," why would you say that? I would never... I couldn't... I love you, MJ. I never stopped loving you."

MJ was stunned, staring at him blankly. She knew that he'd been upset at first, after he'd seen her and Peter in the hospital that time, but she'd had no idea how far his feelings for her went. It hadn't been until weeks later, after Norman's death, that they'd formally broken up.

Later, he's seemed strangely cheerful around her, seemingly comfortable with just being friends. Only now did it occur to her that Harry's evasive and overly-bright attitude may have been caused by more than his father's death.

"You love me?," MJ asked numbly. Harry nodded slightly.

"You sure have a funny way of showing it," she added flatly, and Harry scowled, looking torn, furious and near tears at the same time.

"Harry... I love you as a friend, but that's all. I can't love you any other way-"

"Of course not. You can't love me, because you love _him_. Because _he_ got in the way," Harry said, gesturing toward the church.

"Peter's your friend. He cares about you. Come back to us, Harry-"

"Come back to what? Why? So I can be a third wheel? Just let him rub in my face everything that he's taken from me?," he asked, then looked back toward the direction they'd come from.

"It's too late, Mary Jane. All of us know it. After what I did...," he said, shaking his head, not quite ashamed of what he'd done, but no longer ignoring it.

Mary Jane had almost forgotten. She knew that Harry was right. There was no way that Peter and Harry could be friends again. Peter would never allow it. If it came down to choosing between his friendship with Harry and his duty to stop a murderer... MJ didn't even want to think about the possible outcomes.

"If you really think that, why are you doing this? Why did you bring me here, Harry?," she asked.

"You wouldn't understand, but... I have to do this. Peter stole so much from me... you, my father, probably even my sanity. I can't let him get away with it. I won't!," Harry said, clenching his fists until he felt that the armor on his hands would break. He stared in the direction of the church with such a rage that MJ could almost feel it.

"You can't be serious. Peter wants to help you. You can't do this!"

"I have to! Everything has changed. There's no going back. Peter and I are gong to fight today, and only one of us will make it out alive."

MJ looked at him, horrified. She tried to speak, but Harry put his index finger up to her lips, quieting her.

"Part of the reason I brought you here is to tell you that you're safe. No matter what happens, I'll never hurt you. I love you, MJ, and nothing will change that. I want you to know that."

"Harry-," she broke off as he grabbed her arm, and she followed his gaze. Peter was swinging furiously in the distance. She could see the change in his body movements as he saw them on the bridge, picking up speed.

Harry tugged on her arm, pulling her closer toward the edge. Panic filled her as he grabbed her other arm and turned her around, forcing her to face the water below. He pushed her even father as Peter neared. MJ yelped as she nearly lost her balance, only Harry's grip keeping her from falling.

"But you said-"

"Don't worry, I won't drop you," Harry whispered, and suddenly she realized the other reason why he had brought her there. She doubted that Peter would fight Harry over what had happened thus far, but if he thought that her life was threatened...

Peter landed with a hard _thump_ on the bridge beside them.

"Let her go, Harry," Peter demanded.

"You mean, like _this?_," Harry asked, and adjusted his grip so that he only held her wrists, and she screamed for a second as she nearly fell over the edge.

"Stop it!," Peter said.

"Or what?," Harry taunted.

MJ was just barely able to look over at Peter, and he saw the fear in her eyes.

"Or I swear to God, Harry, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from tearing you apart once I get a hold of you," he said. He was exactly where Harry wanted him.

"Now there's the spirit, Spider-Man!," Harry said with the strangest combination of glee and disgust MJ had ever heard.

He let go of one of her wrists, only one high-heeled shoe stuck in the platform keeping her from dangling off the side. Neither Harry nor MJ could even see the movement as Peter dove toward them, wrenching Harry's hand off of her wrist. He hit Harry across the face as MJ began to fall. But before she had fallen even 10 feet, Peter leapt after her, firing a webline and catching her in mid-air, then jumping back onto the platform.

He barely even checked to make sure that MJ could stand upright before he marched toward Harry, furious. Harry had strapped himself back into the glider. He slipped his mask back on.

"C'mon, Parker, give me all you've got!," he said.

Peter didn't even hesitate, leaping at Harry, but he knew what to expect this time. Peter's fist missed his face, but he attached himself to the glider as only he and Alexia could. The glider rose.

"Peter, don't!," MJ yelled, then flinched as Harry elbowed him in the face. Higher and higher they went, then turned back toward Manhattan.

"Peter, stop! It's a trap! He's doing this on purpose!"

But already, they were too far away to hear her, and quickly out of sight.


	16. Chapter 16

'Ow', Peter thought distantly as Harry fist made contact with one of his ribs

'Ow', Peter thought distantly as Harry fist made contact with one of his ribs. It was clear that he was as strong as his father had been, perhaps more. Peter struck back, hitting Harry in the face, but holding back slightly, fully away of who was behind the mask in front of him. The initial rage had worn off; he was fighting only in self-defense now.

"C'mon, Peter. What's wrong? Not as amazing as your fan think you are, huh?." Harry taunted.

"Why are you doing this?!," Peter yelled.

"Because I have to!"

"Why?"

"Just shut up and fight!," Harry demanded.

He dodged a right hook in response, grabbing Peter's arm and hitting him back. His feet ached to dig into Peter's flash, to break bones. He waited, dodging, making sure that Peter was distracted, then swerved to the left. Peter's spider-sense warned him at the last possible second, and he saw the flag pole only inches away from his head, rushing toward it at 90 miles an hour.

He did the only thing he could do; he detached himself from the glider, allowing himself to fall almost a hundred stories above the street. He twisted upward and fired a webline at the glider, and it attached itself to one of the 'wings'.

Harry looked down at Peter, his attention focused on flying, and smiled, the mask mimicking his expression. He veered to the left, and heard a satisfying _smack_ as Peter hit the side of a building.

Back on the bridge, MJ was mildly surprised to see Alexia swinging gracefully in her direction. She got up from where she had been sitting, feeling especially strange wearing a wedding dress as the black and red figure landed on the platform.

"Are you all right?," Alexia asked.

"I'll be fine. Is everyone at the church okay?"

"I'm not sure. I called the police. An ambulance got there just as I was leaving. Your mom and dad are okay, though."

"Alexia, Peter went after Harry. Harry only brought me here to bait Peter into a fight. He never meant to hurt me."

"Where did they go?," Alexia asked.

"Toward Midtown, I think," MJ said, pointing.

A soft _whurring_ noise alerted Alexia to the presence of an NYPD helicopter coming toward them.

"Looks like your ride is here. I think this is my cue to leave," she said, taking a few steps toward the edge of the platform.

"Tell Peter what happened, okay? I can't bare to think... I don't want to lose them. Can you stop them?," MJ asked sadly. Alexia shook her head.

"I don't know. I'll try."

"Freeze!," an officer yelled to her through a speaker-phone.

She took another step backward, and rose her hands as if in surrender.

"Turn around and put your hands on your head!"

Alexia didn't, instead, lowering an arm to blow a kiss at the cops before stepping off the platform in a backward swan-dive.

"Hold your fire," the commanding officer said, and Alexia swung off to help Peter.

_Crash!_

Another window pane shattered as Peter smashed into it, still not letting go, but he didn't know how much more he could take. Harry glanced down again, seeing Peter struggle to hold on as one or the other of his hands smacked into windows. As entertaining as this was to Harry, he decided that he should stop before there was nothing left of Peter to fight. Then he spotted the perfect place to end this little battle: the Chrysler building.

He swerved right, toward the sky-scraper. Peter narrowly missed the corner of a building, twisting the other way. The swaying finally stopped as they gained altitude, flying over the rooftops, and Peter realized where they were going. He began climbing is web, but refrained from trying to get back on the glider for fear that Harry would change his mind and go somewhere else.

They flew higher, straight up the side of the building until they were above even most of the sky-scrapers. Finally, they reached its peak, and Peter chose that moment to let go, landing in a rolling crouch on one of the lion-like gargoyles. He stood up, ready, as Harry landed the glider on the other side.

"You're really stupid, you know that?," Peter asked as Harry leapt to the gargoyle beside the one he stood on.

"How so?"

"If I fall, I can easily swing my way back up here. If _you_ fall, you'll be a green and purple pancake in a matter of seconds," Peter said.

"You're the physics major," Harry said, then leapt at Peter without warning.

Peter dodged the round-house kick that Harry had so eagerly wanted to try, and responded by grabbing Harry's head and smashing it against the wall. Harry groaned an angry cry of pain. Unlike his father's mask, this one hadn't been meant for use as a helmut.

"Call me a show off," Peter said as he firmly attached his hand to the wall," but this has got to be easier for me than for you."

With his hand attached to the wall, he jumped up and kicked Harry in the chest, sending him over the edge. Harry managed to grab onto the ledge with one hand, and when Peter looked over the side, he used the other to grab Peter's foot and send him tumbling to the other side. Harry climbed back up, looking down at Peter, attached to the side.

"You're right. _That_ is something that only you can do," Harry commented. He could see Peter's slight smirk under his mask as Peter looked past him.

"Not quite," Peter said.

Harry turned to see what Peter was looking at, and found himself flying backwards as Alexia's feet barreled into his chest. He just managed to grab onto the edge of a gargoyle almost opposite them. Alexia let go of the web she had used to swing into Harry, and offered a hand to Peter to help him up, which he accepted.

"What? Cheating on MJ so soon in married life?," Harry said, not serious.

"Okay, first, we're just friends. Second, you interrupted half-way through 'I do', so I'm not technically married yet," Peter said.

"And lastly, you'd better get your green ass moving in the other direction before one or both of us pounds you into a mythological monster of a whole 'nother kind," Alexia added.

Harry looked at them, scowling. Alexia was right; he'd have no chance against both of them.

"I'm not done with you yet, Parker. The next time I find you alone, I won't hold back," he threatened.

"And I'll be ready for you," Peter replied.

Then Harry turned away, flying back towards home, and was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

"Now is the time to act," Norman said, standing at the end of the long table, at which sat 12 of New York's most prominent men

"_Now_ is the time to act," Norman said, standing at the end of the long table, at which sat 12 of New York's most prominent men. They looked at him almost in admiration. He had appeared before them one at a time just a few weeks ago, offering them a choice; to join him in overturning the Kingpin, the man who controlled much of New York's crime, or be left behind as the city would change forever.

"The Kingpin's men are few, and weak. We can't wait forever. We'll make our move very soon. In weeks, the Kingpin will be dead, and the city officials will be under our thumbs. The city will be ours," he continued. _'Well, mine, anyway,_' he thought. The plan was to kill Kingpin, then contain any possible recriminations with the help of the men before him. Then, as the last of Kingpin's men died, Norman would reveal to them who had been the one to lead them; The Green Goblin.

"What about Spider-Man, and the other one?," asked one of the men. Norman scowled for an instant, but quickly masked the expression with one of distaste.

"It will be taken care of," he replied," By this time tomorrow, everything will be ready. You'll get a call when I need you."

The men looked at him suspiciously, but left without question. Norman breathed an uncharacteristic sigh of relief, and left after them. Back in his apartment, he slammed the door shut behind him. Immediately, the familiar laughter filled his mind.

"What do you want this time?," he grumbled dimly, ripping off the prosthetic mask he wore to keep anyone from recognizing him.

'The time has come, Norman. Finally, we will have our revenge.'

Norman was numb. He just wanted his life back; OsCorp, Harry... the Goblin pounced on the thought. He recalled every punch, every anguished emotion, every word of rejection from Peter.

'How foolish of us to waste our time on him, trying to show him all that he could be. Then he rejects us, as though he were better somehow. We offered that conceited little twit everything... even at the cost of Harry's love.'

Norman felt a wave of pain, remembering his last conversation with Harry.

"Harry doesn't want us. He can't accept who he is... but he went after Peter. He really did like that red-haired girl, didn't he? He's fighting for her, to get revenge on Peter for stealing her away... "

'And when Peter dies?,' the Goblin suggested. Norman allowed himself a smile as he thought of that.

"Could he... would Harry come back to us? Once the reason for his obsession was gone? If Peter were dead, and Harry had time to think clearly... ? Yes. Of course. Of course he would come back to his father. He just needs the motivation... But how to I convince Peter to fight me again?"

'Simple. Challenge him. He knows it's inevitable. He'll come.'

"He doesn't even know I'm alive."

'But he knows Harry is.'

Could that work? Norman nodded, then smiled cruelly as he walked toward the giant safe which held his equipment.

"Get Devon in here now, and get Parker on the phone!," Jonah Jameson bellowed through the intercom at Betty.

It was nearly already nightfall, but the Daily Bugle hummed with activity, planning the all-important news edition of the return of the Green Goblin.

"Devon's line is busy, and Peter hasn't paid his phone bill," Betty informed him.

"I don't care what you do, just get them in here!," Jonah demanded.

He turned around to look out his window, and stumbled back. The Green Goblin was hovering just outside. He looked different from the last time, but the creature who had given him nightmares over two years ago was back, and more frightening than ever. Jonah tried to run to the door as the Green Goblin punched through the window, breaking it, and Jonah was stopped by a hand grabbing the back of his shirt collar.

"Sit down," Norman commanded, shoving Jonah into his desk chair.

"What do you want?," Jonah asked, on the verge of a heart attack.

"What do I want? I want Spider-Man dead, that's what I want!," Norman yelled, stepping in front of him.

"Why are you _here_?," Jonah asked.

"To finish what I started... "

Jonah paled to an almost off-white color, somewhere between needing to vomit and having a stroke, recalling the last time the Goblin had been there.

"No, Jonah, I'm not here to kill you. I need you to do something for me."

"What?," Jonah wheezed.

Norman turned away, thinking.

"I want tomorrow's headline to read 'The Green Goblin Challenges Spider-Man'," he said, looking back at Jonah.

"What do you want the article to say?"

"That I'll meet him where his girlfriend almost died."

"How will we know where that is?"

"You won't, " Norman said. "But Spider-Man will."

He turned as if to leave, and Jonah remained in his chair, afraid to move. Suddenly, the chair spun around, and Jonah's heart-rate soared.

"One more thing. I'll be reading the paper tomorrow. If you or any of your reporters print lies, or anything that I don't like... I'll set fire to this building, starting with _you_," Norman threatened menacingly, and flew away.


	18. Chapter 18

"So much for 'the next time he finds me alone'," Peter said, looking down at the latest edition of the Daily Bugle

"So much for 'the next time he finds me alone'," Peter said, looking down at the latest edition of the Daily Bugle.

"I guess he changed his mind. But why didn't he just call MJ to pass on the message?," Alexia asked.

They were standing in Peter's doorway, after Peter had finally tracked down Alexia when she had come home just minutes before.

"I wish I could make sense of _anything_ he's been doing lately," Peter responded.

"Do you want me to be there?," Alexia asked.

"No, this is one thing I have to do on my own. Besides, it's bad for my reputation if you save my butt too many times," Peter joked.

"Consider us even," Alexia replied, then she looked at the clock. "I should go see Devon. I can only imagine what he's going through right now. At the very least, I can try to stop him from trying to get the fight. He'll probably want to be there."

"I think I'll go over there early, just in case he tries to pull any tricks. I asked MJ yesterday to go somewhere that Harry wouldn't expect her to be, somewhere public. Alexia... if anything happens to me," Peter said, his eyes glistening," will you tell help her? Will you tell her that I love her?"

"Don't talk like that. You're going to be fine," Alexia insisted firmly, getting emotional.

She decided that she would be nearby during the fight, ready to intervene if Peter became too injured to fight back. Peter would definitely object, but if it came down to either letting him die or killing Harry, she would do whatever it took to help her friend.

"But just in case?," Peter asked. Alexia reluctantly nodded.

"I'll see you later," Alexia insisted.

"Later," Peter said without conviction. He descended the stairs.

Alexia walked into her room, grabbed her keys, and left after him. Devon had given her his address as well as his phone number on their first date, and Alexia drove toward his apartment.

She pulled up in front of an expensive-looking building near Central Park, and she had to remind herself that Devon's father owned Quest Aerospace as she walked into the front hallway and glanced at the lobby, which was richly decorated and made of various shades of marble. She searched the list next to an intercom and pressed his number.

"Hello?," Devon said.

"Can we talk?," Alexia asked. Her question was answered for her as the door buzzed, opening, and she walked to the elevator.

"It's open," Devon called in response to her knock on his door.

Alexia opened the door and stepped inside. Loud rock music blared from a stereo system, an angsty fast-paced song that fit his mood perfectly. She stopped for a moment when she saw Devon. He was shirtless, breathing heavily and dripping sweat as he drove his fists expertly into a punching bag suspended from the ceiling.

"I just thought I'd stop by and seeing how you're doing," Alexia said, just a little distracted by the beautifully muscular body in front of her.

"I'm fine," Devon answered a little too sharply, continuing to punch the bag. Alexia saw the angry, frustrated expression on his face, and decided to be truthful.

"I read the paper today," she said.

"And you wanted to see how I was dealing with the news?," Devon guessed. "I'm fine. Just fine. My uncle's murderer has been alive all along, while I've just sat here and done nothing. Now he's back, and I..."

He realized just how loud his voice had gotten, and looked at Alexia.

"I'm sorry. I'm not yelling at you, I just... I have to do something. Look, a friend of mine in the police department told me about the girl found on Queensborough Bridge yesterday. I'm willing to bet that that's the place the fight is supposed to be," Devon said, walking over to a chair and removing a towel from it, dabbing his face and draping it over his shoulders.

"You're not going to go watch... ?," Alexia asked, afraid of the answer.

"It's my job, remember?," he said, in such a way that it was obviously an excuse, and moved over to a large desk against the wall.

"I can't let this go on. It's not fair to my uncle, or to any of his victims. It stops today."

Something in Devon's voice made Alexia wary.

"What are you talking about?," she asked apprehensively. Devon turned around, holding something in his hand. A gun.

"You can't be serious. A gun, against that monster? You might as well jump off the bridge!," Alexia said.

"Maybe. But that's why he won't expect it. He'll probably be too arrogant to even notice me until its too late," he said.

He turned around again, setting the gun down for a moment as, to Alexia's mild disappointment, he pulled a sweater on. Then he put on a holster and inserted the gun.

"Devon, I can't let you do this. It's suicide!," she said.

"I know that you don't understand why I'm doing this, but I have to. Maybe it is suicide, but if I can take that psychopath with me, it'll be more than worth it," Devon said, shrugging on a jacket over the holster, and picking up a backpack full of climbing equipment.

"I have to go. He'll be there by the time I've climbed up," he said.

"No... Devon, don't." Alexia said.

He walked toward the door.

"Devon, you said that you love me. What good is that if you're dead?," Alexia pleaded, praying that he'd reconsider before she had to do something that she'd regret. Devon looked back at her, his eyes showing love, but also hate.

"I _do_ love you, but I can't let this go. I'm sorry," he said, and reached for the doorknob.

Alexia felt a wave of sadness as she realized what had to be done. She had no choice.

"Devon, listen to me. There's something you need to know-"

At that moment, she heard a loud screech of tires, followed by a crash and the crunching of metal. She instantly ran to the window, and Devon walked out the door.

"Someone, help!," yelled a bystander. There was a three-car pile up on the road. Alexia looked toward the door, then back out the window, and decided that her little revelation would have to wait. She was sure that she'd have enough time to catch up to him before the fight began.

She ripped off her clothing to reveal her costume, throwing the ruined outfit in the garbage. Then, pulling on her mask, she climbed out the window.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry looked at the newspaper again for perhaps the thirtieth time that day, figuring out what to do

Harry looked at the newspaper again for perhaps the thirtieth time that day, figuring out what to do.

"What gives him the right to try and kill Peter? My father is just angry because he was beaten. Peter took everything from me, even before my dad left... If anyone's entitled to revenge, its me," he said.

He walked over to the dagger and picked it up. The metal was smooth and cold beneath his skin as he ran a finger along the blade. The Goblin whispered thoughts of blood and death into Harry's mind: Peter's.

"Yes. Once Peter is dead, I'll finally have peace. With him out of the way, Dad and I can be a family again. Maybe MJ will even... probably not. She'll never forgive me for killing Peter. It's time I moved on, anyway, " he lied to himself.

He put the dagger back down and walked toward the concealed lair, smiling. In the mirror, his father's reflection smiled back. A minute later, he emerged wearing his costume, feeling every ounce of his power as he moved toward the balcony doors. Then, thinking, he went back and grabbed the dagger off the table and put it in his bag.

The sky was dark with rain clouds as he flew to the spot where he knew the fight was to take place; Queensborough Bridge. He landed on the part of the bridge where he had taken MJ the day before. It was just over an hour from when the fight was to take place, so Harry was mildly surprised to see Peter swinging his way closer to him. Smiling cruelly, he waited.


	20. Chapter 20

Peter swung with a graceful, almost hesitant ease toward the bridge where Harry stood. He couldn't believe it had come to this. If he'd had any choice, he wouldn't have come, but he had forced himself to, afraid that ignoring the challenge would result in a public battle that would put more lives at risk.

He saw Harry hover a bit higher as he neared, and Peter tried to read his body language. He looked about ready to pounce, hunching forward a bit with his arms slightly in front of him, but he seemed to relax a little as Peter landed before him.

"You're early," Harry said, almost casually.

"Harry, why has it come to this? What do you want?," Peter asked.

"I want my father here beside me. I want MJ to understand me. I want to be able to close my eyes without ghosts screaming at me. I want my _life_ back," Harry said honestly. "But let's face it. That'll never happen. Maybe once this is all over, I'll finally get some of that back. But until then, I'll be satisfied with letting you _burn in hell_ for what you've done to me."

"_Done_ to you? Harry, I'm your friend-"

"Like hell you are. You've stolen everything from me. _You're_ the reason I'm like this."

"I never tried to hurt you, Harry. I never meant for things to be like this. But ever since that night, you've changed. Can't you see it, Harry? You're not well-"

Peter was interrupted as his spider-sense warned him of Harry's arm moving, but the thought didn't reach his brain fast enough, and Harry's fist slammed into his face. He stumbled, hesitant to fight back. It was a mistake.

"I'm a lot better than you'll be by the time the day is over," Harry said, grabbing Peter's arm and launching the glider upward.

Peter wrenched his arm out of Harry's grip, sticking to the glider. Harry flew toward the opposite end of the bridge, toward Roosevelt Island, and Peter saw with vague amusement the ironic place that Harry was taking him; the abandoned building where he and Norman had fought over two years ago.

Peter detached himself from the glider directly on top of the building, landing on the roof, and Harry circled back around. There was nowhere Peter could go as Harry shot a missile at the base of the building. The missile was made of the same things that the pumpkin bombs were, designed to maximize the damage without setting fire to the area surrounding the target.

The building collapsed, its roof landing on the ruins, surprisingly intact except for large cracks around the sides. Peter tumbled down as the blast shook under him with the force of a powerful earthquake. Dust flew up around him, clouding his vision, and he couldn't see Harry until it was too late.

Jumping off the glider, Harry kicked Peter in the face as he rose to his knees, knocking him down again. Impatient, Harry yanked him to his feet and head-butted him violently, then followed up with a punch to the face.

"Harry, listen to me," Peter said.

"Shut up!," Harry yelled, backhanding him. Peter stumbled slightly, unable to bring himself to fight back. Harry noticed this hesitation, becoming angry. Doubt began to form in the back of his mind.

"Why won't you fight me!," he asked loudly.

"Stop this, Harry. I want to help you. I'm your friend-"

"You're a liar! You lied to me for years. About my father-"

"What should I have done, Harry? What would you have done with the truth? Would it have taken away the pain? Or would it have made it worse?"

The Goblin panicked at this truth, and a shot of extreme fury flowed through Harry. He charged at Peter, who attempted to move out of the way too late. Harry's mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he viciously pummeled Peter in the stomach. Peter finally tried to block him, but was unsuccessful, and Harry watched as Peter became increasingly clumsy, wearing down.

He began to fall, and Harry hit him in an upper-cut which sent him flying backward. Peter groaned, struggling to get up. This was far too familiar. Too slow, too weak, too distracted again... Harry walked toward him again, flooded with emotions. It was anger. It was pain. It was madness. It was _power_.

He kicked Peter in the stomach while he was down, then in the face, and Peter rolled onto his back. Harry stood over him, then lowered himself and began punching him with full force. Peter tried to stop him, but it was no use. He was starting to lose consciousness, and Harry got up, deciding to let Peter recover for a moment while he took out the dagger.

Amazingly, Peter began to lift himself up, breathing heavily, leaning on one hand. Harry grabbed him by the throat and pulled him the rest of the way up, smashing him into a brick pillar that had broken through the roof. Then he raised the dagger and moved to strike. Desperate, Peter grabbed his hand, stopping the blade 2 inches from his neck. Already he could feel himself wearing out. Millimetre by millimetre, Harry pushed forward, and Peter knew it was useless. Any second now, it would be over. Far, far too familiar...

Despite the hand clamped over his windpipe, Peter struggled to speak.

"I only wanted to help you... whatever voice you hear inside, it's wrong. This isn't you, Harry. If this is your idea of living up to your father's legacy... I only hope that one day, you'll see that... and you'll be free."

_Free._

In that moment, something changed. Harry remembered the night when he found out about Peter and his father...

_"You swore to make Spider-Man pay? Now make him pay."_

_"But Pete's my best friend..."_

_"And I'm your father. You're weak. You were __always__ weak. You'll always __be__ weak until you take control. Now you know the truth about Peter. Be strong, Harry. Avenge me."_

_"I... can't..."_

_Avenge me!_

_No!_

"No!," Harry cried, shoving Peter away, shaking his head. Peter crashed into the pillar, and it crumbled. He fell, coughing as he barely caught himself with one hand. Had he gotten through to Harry? He'd turned away, his movements confused. Peter pulled his mask off. When Harry turned back, he braced himself for another attack, but Harry had changed somehow. Looking into Peter's eyes, Harry removed his own mask. He was crying.

"Peter... ," he said, looking like his old self, regret in his eyes.

He reached toward Peter, who visibly flinched. As he recoiled, Peter almost tripped on a piece of debris, and cried out in pain. Harry put a hand on Peter's shoulder gently.

"I'm sorry... Peter, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what I was doing. Well, I did, but... I couldn't stop. I'm sorry... "

Peter closed his eyes, aching as the adrenaline slowly left his system.

"You were right. This isn't me. This never wanted this... I can't explain... I'm so sorry," Harry repeated. Peter opened his eyes and saw the regret and concern in Harry's, pleading for understanding.

"It's... okay," Peter said weakly, attempting to step forward. Harry moved to help him, turning to let Peter lean on him, when they both looked up.

A dark figure hovered close to their side of the bridge, watching. And it had someone with them: Mary Jane.


	21. Chapter 21

"Number six?," the secretary asked.

Mary Jane looked up as the next girl on the numbered list got up and walked to the door. She was in a movie audition waiting room, bored out of her mind. Peter had asked her to stay in public places where Harry wouldn't expect her to be, and although an audition seemed predictable, given the probability of around 30 auditions occurring at any one time, MJ figured that this was safe enough.

"He's pretty hot," said a black-haired, almost gothic-looking teenage girl to her guy-friend, pointing to a picture in the Daily Bugle.

"For all you know, he's got eight eyes," said the slightly more colorful friend.

MJ feigned indifference as she began to listen to the conversation.

"Of course he doesn't. If he had eight eyes, why would there be only two eye-pieces in his mask?," the gothic one pointed out. The friend shrugged.

"I wonder who will win."

"I really hope that Spidey does. We'll know soon, I think. The fight is supposed to start-"

"What fight?," MJ interrupted. The gothic one closed the newspaper and showed her the front page: 'The Green Goblin Challenges Spider-Man'.

"You haven't heard?," the friend asked. "It's all over the-"

"Hey!," the gothic one protested as MJ snatched the paper out of her hands and opened it.

_While the Goblin wouldn't elaborate as to the actual location where the fight is to take place, he told that Spider-Man would: 'The place where his girlfriend almost died'. He has demanded that Spider-Man meet him at the aforementioned site approximately 6:00 tonight._

It was 5:10.

Dropping the paper, MJ hurried out of the building. Dark clouds hovered overhead as she stepped onto the sidewalk. A business man was getting out of a taxi in front of her. MJ rudely squeezed past him into the car.

"I need to get to Queensboro Bridge, _now_," she said urgently.

"Sure, lady," said the driver, and drove off.

They were almost a block away from the bridge when they heard a bomb explode. Cars skidded to a halt, crammed bumper to bumper. Angry citizens got out of their cars, calling the police.

"Go!," MJ said.

"Are you nuts? I can't get through this!," the driver said.

MJ flung open the door, throwing two twenties at the driver, and franticly began to run through the traffic toward the bridge. She looked up, but Peter and Harry were nowhere to be seen. The blast had definitely come from Roosevelt Island. She looked at the traffic, frustrated. She needed to get over there. Whatever was happening, it was bad.

MJ assumed that the explosion had been Harry's doing, and knew that she had to stop the fight before one of them died. But even if she ran across the bridge, it would take far too long. It might even already be too late...

The problem was tragically solved as MJ turned at the sound of screams and gasps from those behind her.

The Green Goblin hovered for a moment, watching as Harry angrily punched Peter in the ribs repeatedly. Norman knew he should have expected interference from Harry, but he hadn't counted on him being early and fighting Peter already. Then, looking down at the bridge, he spotted the red-haired girl, Mary-Jane, in the middle of the traffic, and got an idea.

Surely, the presence of the woman they loved would stop them from fighting until Norman could convince Harry to let him kill Peter. He swooped down as she turned and grabbed her by the throat. He was amused as she let out a short scream, but otherwise just glared at him with defiant eyes as they flew toward the ruins of the abandoned building.


	22. Chapter 22

Devon swore as a bomb exploded, and he was forced to stop a few blocks away from the bridge. What had happened? The fight wasn't supposed to start for another 20 minutes, and terrorists wouldn't have attacked Roosevelt Island.

Confused and furious, Devon got out of his car just in time to see the Green Goblin swoop down and grab a girl off the end of the bridge and fly toward where the explosion had happened.

"Son of a *****," Devon said.

He had to get over to Roosevelt Island, fast. He saw a young man on a motorcycle, and pulled out his gun, aiming at him.

"I need your bike," Devon demanded.

"What the hell, man?," the guy said, getting off the bike.

Not even bothering to take the guy's helmet, Devon mounted the bike and revved the engine, driving back around the bridge to the pedestrian walkway. There was no way he would lose his chance to kill the bastard who had ruined so many lives. He sped down the bridge toward the other end, and his destiny.

**********

Alexia cursed her luck as she landed on building overlooking the bridge, watching as the Green Goblin kidnapped MJ yet again. She was confused, realizing that he couldn't have caused the blast; he was too far away. Then she noticed that his costume was different than the one she remembered.

If he hadn't caused the explosion, who had? Where was Peter? The Goblin took off toward Roosevelt Island where the explosion had been, and Alexia knew she had no choice but to follow.

Then she heard yells of protest below, and saw something that caused her to panic: Devon was riding a motorcycle illegally down the pedestrian walkway on the bridge, following the Goblin.

"Help!," someone called.

Alexia looked toward the voice and saw that two cars near the beginning of the bridge had fish-tailed into each other. Reluctantly, Alexia leaped down into the street to see what was happening. Of all of Peter's attributes that had rubbed off on her, why did selfless responsibility have to be one of them?

She estimated that it would take Devon at least a few minutes to get to the other side and find the Goblin, and whatever problem was happening here, it couldn't take much time. She decided to help.

The woman by the cars looked relieved when she saw Alexia coming toward her.

"My daughter's stuck in the back, and her seatbelt is jammed," she explained.

Alexia looked in and saw the frightened girl, then reached in. Finding the seat buckle, she tugged sharply on it, and it broke. She lifted the girl out of the car and set her down. But as the mother went to her, she stepped in something: a puddle of oil that had leaked from the other car.

Alexia looked around hurriedly. With this kind of traffic jam, if the car exploded, it could cause a chain reaction along the entire bridge. She prayed to every God she could think of that she could reach Devon in time after this, and climbed on top of the car.

"Everybody, off the bridge!," she yelled.

A few people backed up, but most just looked at her, unmoving. The owner of the other car, a med student about her age, said, "Why should we listen to you? Go get a job, you stupid-"

A mouthful of webbing abruptly shut her up. There was no time to explain the situation. Alexia had to do two things; save these people from getting themselves blown up, and get to Devon. Time was a luxury she did not have.

Her spider-sense began to vibrate slightly as she he walked over to the girl, and impatiently lifted up the car. The people stared as she held it over her head a moment, then tossed it over the side of the bridge. It exploded just as it hit the water. Alexia turned toward the people.

"Get off. The ****ing. Bridge!," she repeated, and this time, they ran.


	23. Chapter 23

Harry stared up at his father, astounded at seeing him as he was, holding MJ almost at arm's length beside him. Peter was frantic at the sight, remembering all too well a similar situation. His heart raced as their eyes met through the darkness, but even the sight of her could not give Peter enough strength to have any sort of confidence; he knew he was too injured to fight. He had no idea what to do. He waited for Harry.

"Dad? Why did you bring her here?," Harry asked, confused. "She has nothing to do with this."

"Really?," Norman replied.

He flew the glider toward the roof and landed in front of them, then stepped off the glider, all but dragging MJ with him.

"Isn't she the reason all of this happened? Isn't she the one you love?," he continued.

Harry looked at Peter, who was looking at MJ, and Harry could see the love in their eyes.

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "But she doesn't love me. I've accepted that. Why do you keep trying to hurt her? What did she do to you?"

"You don't remember? She hurt you. That day when you saw them together. I said that I would make it up to you, how I'd failed as a father... "

"So you tried to kill her? Dad, what were you thinking? Are you crazy?," Harry said, getting angry.

"Depends on your point of view," Norman said, and the startling reality began to settle in for Harry.

"Let her go, Dad."

Norman hesitated, and the Goblin refused.

"Forget about her. Come back to me, Harry."

Harry saw the hesitation in his father's eyes, and something occurred to him.

"You have it too, don't you? The voice... it tells you what to do, doesn't it? You don't have to listen to it, Dad! You can get rid of it!"

"No. Why would I want to? Listen to me, Harry. You don't have to settle for this life anymore. You don't have to accept failure or rejection. You deserve so much more than that," Norman said, comforting.

For a moment, Harry almost thought that if his father hadn't been wearing the mask, he would have truly believed what he was saying.

"Come back to me, Harry. We may not have had the best relationship, but we're still family. You can't let anyone get in the way of that. Isn't that what you want, Harry? To be part of a family again? It can happen."

Harry wanted to believe so much, but it had to be a trap of some sort, didn't it? Nothing the Goblin did had ever been with good intentions. Norman looked at Harry purposefully.

"But there's something that has to be done first. Step aside, son."

A rush of adrenaline filled Peter, who had remained silent, afraid that interrupting would hurt MJ. He knew that he was still too weak to fight, not even sure if he was capable of walking on his own. Carefully, he stepped back. Harry looked at him, then back at his father.

"No. Let MJ go," he said.

"As soon as I've taken care of Peter. When he's gone, we can-"

"No. Peter's my friend. I won't let you hurt him," Harry said firmly. The Goblin became impatient.

"Out of my way, boy. He has to pay for what he's done."

"And what's that? Trying to stop you from killing innocent people? Trying to help me when I was going nuts? Leave him alone, Dad. He doesn't deserve this," Harry responded, stepping in front of Peter.

Harry could swear that just for a second, he could see the pain in his father's eyes behind the mask. Then Norman shoved Harry to the side, out of the way.

"Peter," MJ cried, short of breath.

Norman tossed her toward him. She fell, and Peter fell with her. He reached out and clasped his hand over hers. Norman lifted an arm up, and a series of 4-inch long spikes sprang up out of the armor on his forearm. They curved slightly to the right, designed for climbing and blocking. They could also easily cut and shred flesh.

He reached down and yanked Peter up, forcing him to let go of Mary Jane's hand. His gaze remained on MJ, and he said a silent goodbye. He hoped that at least, Norman might leave MJ alone. Norman raised his arm, preparing to strike.

"Dad, no!," Harry dried, flinging himself in front of Peter.

He knew that he was too late. As the arm swung downward, he knew that he had made the right decision. Peter deserved to live far more than he did. He stumbled a little as the blades pierced his chest in a diagonal line. Three of the spikes had sunk all the way in, and the tip of the second had pierced his heart. He could feel the blood flowing out of him.

Norman stared in shock for a moment, then snapped the blades back into his armor. Harry fell, coughing on his own blood. Peter knelt beside him, as did MJ. Norman looked away, almost unbelieving, trying not to see what he had just done. Peter put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry looked at him.

"Why?," was all that Peter could think of to say. Harry smiled weakly.

"What else could I do? You're my best friend," he replied.

He looked at MJ, the blood beginning to spread to the roof beneath him. Then he coughed, and closed his eyes. He was gone.

Everything was silent for a moment, and Norman finally looked at his son. He was dead. Dead because he had protected Peter. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye. Norman shook, filling with rage.

"You did this!," he yelled, pointing at Peter, beginning to weep. "If only you had died when you were supposed to! Oh... Harry... "

Peter stood warily. He knew that there was nothing he could say that the Goblin wouldn't call a lie.

"If it weren't for you, he'd still be alive. You're going to _burn in hell_ for this!"

The blades snapped out again, and he dove at Peter. They both landed a few feet behind Harry, and cold terror filed Peter as the blades rose again.

"Send my love to Harry," Norman asked sadly, and pressed the blades to Peter's neck. Peter closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain.

"Ahh!," Norman cried, confused, as he found himself flying backwards, landing hard on his back.

Peter opened his eyes, looking past Norman to the person who had just saved his life: Alexia.


	24. Chapter 24

Alexia dropped the webline that she had used to yank Norman back, and they all looked at her. She glared at Norman with disgust and anger, and Peter suddenly realized how glad he was that she was on his side.

MJ crawled over to him, putting a hand on his cheek, comforting. He began to lift himself up as Norman stood, fury in his eyes as he looked at Alexia. Alexia felt slightly sick as she stole a glance at Harry, lifeless and bleeding. How ignorant Norman had been, that he had killed his own son because he was so obsessed with revenge.

"What are you doing here?," Norman demanded.

He'd heard of her, of course, but because she'd had so little public interaction with Peter in costume, he'd had no reason to think that she would be here.

"What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here? You're supposed to be dead," Alexia said, almost amused. She'd already dealt with the surprise, and knew confusion would be useless.

"I was," he replied emotionlessly, then turned toward Peter.

"Don't even think about it," Alexia hissed, ready to jump between them.

"What are you going to do about it?," Norman said in a tone that would have caused most people to shiver.

"Whatever I have to, to stop a psychopath like you," she replied coldly.

With that, Norman laughed menacingly, then charged at her suddenly. Alexia could hear the whistle of the blades missing as she dodged under his arm, turning and elbowing him in the stomach, then stepped back outward and kicked him. He stumbled and struck with the blades again, just missing her throat, then circled around her.

Angered by the second attempt to kill her, Alexia slugged him in the face with full force, causing an eye-peice to shatter and the metal structure of the right side of the mask to collapse inward. Norman cried our in frustration at this annoyance, leaving him barely able to see, and tore the mask off. Alexia thought dryly that the face beneath wasn't much of an improvement from the mask.

Norman threw the battered mask at her, distracting her just long enough that he managed to kick her in the stomach. Grunting in pain, she failed to dodge a blow that caught her on the mouth. She rubbed her hand over the place where he had hit her, furious at the bit of blood she had wiped off.

She did a backward hand-spring to gain distance, but Norman easily caught up to her. They glared at each other a moment, then both of them moved to strike. They stopped just before attacking as both of them heard the distinct _click_ of the safety being taken off a gun.

Surprisingly, his hands didn't shake, even as he looked upon the face of the man who had been his uncle's competitor, personal nemesis, and murderer. Distracted by the fighting, no one had seen him climbing onto the roof until he was less than 10 feet away from them. Tightening his grip on the gun handle, Devon focused his aim on Norman.

"_You_... you *******," was all he could think of to say at first. At Norman's confused and still angry expression, his eyes narrowed. He remembered hearing the news of his uncle's death.

"You killed my uncle," Devon said. He knew it was stupid, but he wanted a reaction. A twitch, a recognition, a trace of remorse. There was nothing.

Slowly beginning to sit up with MJ's help, Peter's eyes widened with shock at hearing Devon's words. He recalled when he had said those very words to someone else, not that long ago. He understood Devon completely. He had wondered more times than he liked to admit what he might've done if the thief had not tripped. Would he have handed him over to the police? Or would he have pushed him? Sometimes, if he thought about it hard enough... he wondered if he could've saved him from the fall if he'd tried.

He'd never know for sure. And now Devon faced that same choice. Unfortunately for Devon, his opponent was far more than a comparatively weak carjacker.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific," Norman said, amused.

Devon wanted to scream. What a lack of feeling, of morality... of _humanity_. Though of course, Devon couldn't begin to understand just how far from human Norman was. How far from human four of these people were.

"Dr. Henry Smith, Head of Technology at Quest Aerospace. The man who was about to take over your company, right, Mr. Osborn?," Devon spit through his teeth.

"Ah yes. It's a shame I didn't bother to take any of the technology with me. The patent was pending," Norman replied humorously. "Now if you'll excuse me, I was about to blow someone else up."

He was provoking him on purpose, trying to push him to shoot. Devon was happy to oblige.

"Never again," Devon said, and moved his finger closer to the trigger. Alexia, who had stood in silence for fear of forcing Norman to attack Devon before she could separate them, couldn't take it any longer.

"Devon, no!," she cried, reaching for Norman's arms to hold him back, too late.

With a terrible speed, Norman was in front of Devon, knocking the gun out of his hand before the trigger could be pulled. Sensing Alexia's next move, he turned and pointed a finger at the confused superheroine. Surprise couldn't begin to describe the feeling as 10, 000 bolts of electricity shot out of his armor, blinding her in a painful explosion of sparks. She fell.

'How did she know my-'

Devon's delayed thought was cut short as Norman turned back toward him.

"Like father, like son," Norman stated simply, and hit Devon across the face with a weak blow, still far more than enough to knock him down.

Devon could taste the blood in his mouth as his head spun. When his vision focused, he realized that he had landed on top of the gun. However, he didn't have time to reach for it as Norman approached.

"Norman!," Peter yelled. He was standing. The adrenaline had left him a bit numb, and his ribs still hurt, but he was recovering quickly. Watching Devon. Buying time.

"You'll get your turn," Norman said, turning back to his weaker prey.

Devon, who had just noticed Peter, was only a little surprised at realizing Spider-Man's true identity. MJ, still silent, felt a rush of anger at Norman's suggestion, but kept her eyes on Peter.

Norman got quite a surprise as he saw the gun pointed in his face. He hadn't noticed it. There was no way Devon could have been fast enough to shoot him point-blank in the head, but through some miracle, he didn't miss entirely. As Norman moved out of the way, the bullet skidded across his right side where Alexia's kicks had cracked the usually bullet-proof armor.

Norman grunted in pain as he knocked the gun from Devon's hands again, furious as he admitted to himself that the wound had weakened him. And now Peter was almost back to his normal strength. Frustrated, he realized that if Peter fought him now, he was likely to win. And he knew Peter knew this as well. Peter began to move toward him.

Desperate, he yanked Devon up and pushed him in front of him, and Peter stopped as Norman wrapped his bladed arm around Devon's neck.

"Not so fast, Peter," Norman said in a voice that sounded almost normal despite its pain and menace.

Frustrated, Peter knew he had no choice but to stop.

"Let him go, and I'll let you leave. We can settle this later," he said.

Norman laughed.

"It's not as easy as that."

"What?," Peter asked, shocked and annoyed.

"I'll tell you what... I'll let him go, but I want something in return. I've come too close to let you slip from my grasp again." He paused, smiling menacingly. "I'll trade his life... for _yours_."

MJ's gasped unwillingly, suddenly numb with fear for her fiancé. Peter stared in shock. Norman laughed again when there was no immediate response.

"What's the matter? It's time to show everyone just how much of a hero you _really_ are. Die to save his life... or let this innocent fool die because you're a coward."

Peter was torn. Of course he didn't want to die. He had so much to live for. MJ... Aunt May... all of the people he helped. He did so much good as Spider-Man. But how could he live with himself knowing that _another_ had died because of his inaction. And what would Alexia think?

"Well?"

"I-"

The sound of a gunshot cut him off. Norman's eyes widened as the bullet ripped through him at an angle, destroying his internal organs. 10 feet behind him to the left stood Alexia, the gun in her outstretched hands. Norman's hand fell from Devon's neck, barely aware of himself, knowing that he was dying quickly. But there was one more thing he had to do. Alexia watched in horror as Norman drove his other bladed arm into Devon's lower back. Then he fell, landing facing Harry.

'I'll be with you soon, son...', he thought, and his heart stopped.

Alexia was there in a moment, catching Devon as he fell. She carried him over toward Peter and MJ, setting him down gently. He was still breathing. He opened his eyes, looking at Alexia's masked face, confused.

"Who... ?," he began to ask.

Alexia understood. She removed her mask, and immediately the tears flowed down her face. She smiled faintly at him. The shock passed in a moment, and for the second time today he could not believe that he had not seen what was right in front of his eyes.

"I wanted to tell you... I should've told you... but I was afraid," Alexia said.

"Of what?"

"I couldn't have told you that Norman was dead without revealing Peter and I... it would've been chaos. But I was sure I'd be able to stop you from doing something like this. I was stupid... I shouldn't have let it get that far. Of course, it turned out you were right. For the wrong reasons."

Devon felt horrible for not listening to what she'd said earlier. Maybe this would've turned out differently if Alexia hadn't had to worry about him. He looked over at Peter.

"Well... at least you won't have to worry about me telling Jonah," he joked.

"No, don't say that," Alexia insisted." Let's go to a hospital-"

"It won't work. You were right. I should've listened."

Alexia shook her head in denial. She looked over at Peter and MJ. Their expressions offered sympathy, but not hope. She stroked her hand through Devon's hair, looking intensely into his eyes.

"Don't leave me," she said weakly.

"I'm sorry. At least he's gone now. He can't hurt anyone else," Devon replied.

It was strange how his own death no longer horrified him. He felt only sadness at leaving her behind.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too. Don't go. Stay with me. I need you..."

Devon smiled, then closed his eyes. He was gone.

Shaking, the tears blinded her. Sadness and anger overcame her. All the way into Manhattan, her anguished scream carried through the night.


	25. Chapter 25

The wedding took place on a hilltop in late November. It was unseasonably warm. The sun shining serenely down on the small crowd gathered in front of the alter, silent with expectation. The priest spoke.

"You may now kiss the bride."

And kiss her Peter did. The crowd clapped and laughed as Peter lifted her up and spun her around gently. Then he set her back down, and their eyes said it all as they looked at one another: I love you.

The crowd soon thinned as many left to go on ahead to the dining hall for the post-wedding dinner. While MJ talked to Louise, Peter noticed Alexia walking away from the gathering, toward the graveyard across from them where some people they knew had been laid to rest recently. Giving MJ a kiss on the cheek and an assurance that he'd be right back, Peter followed.

Alexia stood numb, unaware of the cold even in her thin red bridesmaid's dress, staring at the smooth, new gravestone in front of her.

Devon M. Smith. 1979-2004.

To his colleagues at the Daily Bugle, he had been a young, passionate journalist. To his uncle, he had been the son he'd never had. To Alexia, he had been a sweet, truthful, troubled person whom she thought she could have spent her life with if only she had had the courage to tell him the truth. He had been someone that she knew now she could have trusted. Someone she had loved.

"It's never easy, losing someone you love," Peter said almost on cue as he approached her.

Alexia nodded slightly. She knew that Peter knew only too well what he was talking about.

Peter looked in the direction of the Osborn family plot nearby, where father and son had been buried only days before.

In a sudden rush of emotion, Peter confessed, "Harry was like a brother to me. He was a great friend, but always... distant," Peter said for lack of a better word. It was hard to describe the quiet jealousy he knew that Harry had had for him because of his father's favoritism. Despite that, Harry had chosen to befriend the shy, complex young scientist who had been the closest thing to a caring family member he'd ever had.

"I just wish I'd been able to be honest with him... I know, even if I'd had a chance before... it probably wouldn't have been possible. But I just wish I could have made him understand."

"You did," said an unexpected voice.

MJ, looking sure and serene, put a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"He knew, in the end. I think he knew all along. It was just too much for him," she said.

"I just have to wonder why things happened like they did. Why Norman? Why Harry? How many more times will something like this happen?," Peter said, frustrated.

"More importantly, how will we be able to stop them?," Alexia asked.

Peter was relieved. He'd secretly begun to fear that Devon's death may have caused her to doubt what she was doing, but it was the opposite. Now she was twice as determined to never let it happen to anyone else.

"I'm sure we'll find a way," Peter answered.

Alexia nodded, his courage strengthening her resolve.

"Peter! MJ! Let's get a picture!," called Aunt May, gesturing them to the top of the hill.

Smiling a goodbye to Alexia, he linked his arm through MJ's and went to get the wedding pictures taken. Alexia turned back to finish her interrupted goodbye.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. Of course, in the end, it turns out you were right. I'm just so sorry that you had to pay the price. No one else should die because of what I do or don't do, but I understand that this is my responsibility now," she paused.

"And when I can, I'll make sure that I do what I can to prevent situations like this from happening again. I got my bail recovery licence today. I could never be a cop, but I figure that this makes sense."

"Alexia, can you come be in this picture?," Aunt May called politely.

Alexia smiled at the invitation, and continued her thoughts as she walked up the hill to have her picture taken with Peter and MJ.

"I love you. And I'm pretty sure you'd want me to do this. This isn't the first time some psycho has threatened so many people, and somehow I doubt it'll be the last. But if it does happen-"

She posed, smiling, for the camera with the others.

"We'll be there."

**The End**


End file.
